Read Online Dead on Her Feet (An Antonia Blakeley Tango Mystery Book 1) by Lisa Fernow - Free Book Online Page A

head back and half-closed her eyelids. “Oh. Roland’s friend.”
    “Fiancée, actually,” Shawna said, fanning herself.
    Nathalie dabbed at the gloss on her upper lip with the back of a manicured fingernail.
    “Let me introduce you to the others.” Roland hastily took Nathalie by the elbow and steered her away.
    Bobby poked forward and thrust out his hand, seemingly oblivious to the tension between the women. “Robert Glass.”
    Roland added, “Bobby’s a Professor of Geology and Paleontology at Emory.”
    “Oh how thrilling,” Nathalie said, “just like Cary Grant!”
    Bobby blinked and Antonia could tell that the Bringing Up Baby reference had gone right past him. “Sorry about our weather,” he said to Nathalie, his bald spot glistening in silent testimony.
    “I won’t shake hands, I’m too sweaty,” Barbara said. Antonia imagined a dog sniffing another dog and not liking the result.
    Nathalie looked over Barbara’s shoulder. Seeing Christian she gave him a beauty queen touch-pearls-and-wave greeting. “So, handsome, are you learning tango now?”
    Christian blushed. “Sort of. I mean, she’s teaching and I guess I’m learning.”
    “Save a dance for me in that case,” Nathalie said, kissing the air in his direction.
    Antonia decided the best course of action was to keep Nathalie far, far away from Roland and Christian. She could count on the other men to help on that front. She cued the CD player to start the Di Sarli song again. “Let’s try the sacada again with a new partner,” she said.
    But Shawna went to sit by the DJ station instead of going after Roland, and Nathalie snagged him. There was a covert musical chairs scuffle as everyone else sorted themselves out. The women without partners stood to the side waiting their turn. Barbara joined Christian in the corner. Antonia went over to see if she could get them onto the floor.
    “I might just give you a chance? What the hell does she know about tango?” Barbara hissed to Christian, her freckled face nearly as red as her hair. “She doesn’t even have the right shoes, for Christ’s sake. Look at them. Spangled.”
    Christian murmured, “She didn’t mean to be insulting.”
    “Are you kidding? Don’t be naïve.”
    Antonia slipped her arm around Barbara’s shoulders. “Smile and keep your thoughts to yourself.”
    “I’m not a fucking Southern belle.”
    “That’s definitely an oxymoron. Come on, work with Christian or give someone else a chance.”
    Barbara reluctantly allowed Christian to take her in his arms. Antonia inspected his posture. “Stand up proud. That’s better. Your lead should come from the direction of your weight changes. Beautiful. Now get out there.”
    Christian did his best to lead Barbara around the dance floor in a walk. She wasn’t making it easy. Instead of stepping softly, like a cat, Barbara ground the balls of her feet into the floor. But at least Christian was out of the way.
    Antonia turned her attention back to Nathalie. She’d arranged her left arm around Roland’s neck, forearm perfectly parallel to his shoulders, fingers and thumb extended together, rigid and pointing like a horizontal military salute. From her stylized posture it was obvious she wasn’t a social tango dancer. Roland whispered something and she pressed closer.
    Seeing this, Shawna crossed her legs, picked up a Bridge to the Tango magazine, and began fanning herself with it.
    Sensing her friend’s discomfort Antonia went over to Roland and Nathalie to pry them apart. The best strategy, she decided, would be to teach them to death. “Roland, don’t thrust your chest out so far.” She then looked carefully at Nathalie’s frame and asked, “Do you get a lot of lower back pain when you dance a lot?”
    “Oh yes,” Nathalie moued. “All the time.”
    “I think it will help if you make a slight modification. Your chest and arms are strong but you want to avoid what I call cheerleader stance.” Where your ass sticks