Dead Man Dancing Read Online Free PDF Page B

is here to stay.’
    â€˜For the waltz, and for most ballroom,’ she continued, ‘we use the basic, closed position.’ Alicia clapped her hands again. ‘OK, find your partner.’
    I waltzed across the room to Paul, muttering, ‘One-two-three, one-two-three,’ as I went. Paul gathered me into his arms, his left hand in my right, my hand and forearm resting lightly on his upper arm, and we waited for our position to be inspected and approved.
    Alicia made some minor adjustments to Daddy and Neelie’s posture, then turned her attention to us, moving Paul’s hand from the small of my back up to my shoulder blade. ‘Slightly cup your hand, Paul, don’t spread your fingers out.’
    Meanwhile, Chance had retreated to the control panel where he appeared to be waiting for a signal from Alicia.
    â€˜Ready?’ asked Alicia. ‘Go.’
    Almost immediately, the music began, an electronic version of ‘You Light Up My Life’. Paul waited, nodding his head in time to the music, whispering, ‘One-two-three, one-two-three,’ until the vocalist began crooning, ‘
So many nights . . .
’ before we stepped out. We made it all the way down the length of the ballroom before Paul stomped hard on my toe – ‘Shit!’ – and I lost my concentration.
    â€˜Gosh, sorry, Hannah.’
    â€˜No problem.’
    His breath was warm on my neck. ‘One-two-three, left-right-left.’ Paul tapped a foot for two bars, getting his bearings before setting off again, this time narrowly missing a collision with Hutch and Ruth who were quite literally floating counter-clockwise around the dance floor, eyes locked, seemingly oblivious to anyone but themselves.
    As I said, I’d watched dance shows on TV, and except for the sexy, steamy numbers like the cha-cha and the paso doble, I thought it must be against the rules for couples to look at one another. In my experience, the guy’d be staring deadpan left, and the girl would be gazing at some fixed spot over his right shoulder with a crimson-lipped, full-toothed perma-grin on her face. But there was something so up close and personal going on between Hutch and Ruth on the dance floor just then, that Paul and I stopped dancing and stood transfixed.
    â€˜Jeesh,’ Paul whispered in my ear, ‘get a hotel room.’
    I jabbed him in the ribs with my elbow.
    By then, even the instructors had stopped what they were doing to watch my sister and her fiancé.
    â€˜I thought you told me Ruth hadn’t danced in years,’ Paul muttered under his breath.
    â€˜She hasn’t,’ I said, but couldn’t believe it either.
    While we watched, Hutch eased Ruth into an effortless six-count underarm turn.
    And the music ended.
    Everyone breathed a collective, ‘Ahhhh.’
    For a moment, nobody spoke. Then we burst into applause.
    Still holding Ruth’s hand, Hutch made the tiniest of bows.
    â€˜Now, don’t tell
me
they’re beginners,’ a voice behind me grumbled.
    It belonged to the guy half of the black and white-clad, quick-stepping couple.
    â€˜Well, he isn’t, but my sister is,’ I told him. ‘Or at least she’s supposed to be.’
    I glared in Ruth’s direction. Clearly, she had been practicing, and I wanted to know what all that bullshit in my kitchen that morning had been about.
    â€˜Tom Wilson,’ the guy said, extending his hand. ‘This is my partner, Laurie Wainwright.’
    â€˜Nice to meet you, Tom. Laurie. You were fabulous out there, by the way.’
    â€˜Thanks,’ said Laurie, adjusting the bright red scarf she wore around her neck. Her voice was low and throaty, sexy, like Lauren Bacall. Or me with a chest cold. ‘We’re practicing for the Sweetheart Ball International Championships in DC in mid-February. We’re dancing intermediate.’
    â€˜That’s gold,’ Tom