Dead on the Dance Floor by Heather Graham Page B

and sprinted off, then paused a good thirty feet away and called back to him, “Hey, you’re all right, you know? My name is Marnie, by the way.” Then, as if she had given away far too much, she turned again, this time running toward the street at full speed.
    He watched her go. He hoped she was as tough as she thought.
    Miami Beach was a gateway to every vice in the western hemisphere.
    He noted the position of the sun in the sky and glanced at his watch. Time to get moving.
    He headed back for his car, which was parked over on Alton. He wasn’t sure why, but he hadn’t wanted to park closer to the studio. He returned to his car, took a look at his watch again and figured he had time. It was a short hop from South Beach to pay a visit to the medical examiner’s officer.
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    The newly revamped and renamed hotel where they were hoping to hold the Gator Gala had called while Shannon was giving Quinn O’Casey his first lesson. When she returned the call, she was happy to learn that she had played hardball with them to just the right degree—they were calling to agree to a per-night room charge that was completely reasonable and would surely help draw northern entrants to the competition, which was planned for the second week in February. Despite the heavy pall that had seemed to hang over her since Lara’s death, Shannon was delighted. They would wrap up the deal at their meeting later in the week. She hurried into the main office to tell Gordon.
    â€œGreat,” he told her, really pleased. “That should make a difference for us. I mean, who wouldn’t want to come to Miami Beach in the middle of winter? Especially at such a great price. What about the meals?”
    â€œWe’re still negotiating,” she said.
    â€œWhat are we negotiating?” Ben Trudeau asked, poking his head in.
    â€œMeals,” Shannon told him.
    â€œAh.” Ben was one of those men who was so good-looking he was almost too pretty. Of course, once upon a time, it hadn’t seemed that way to Shannon. Once he had been like a god to her—tall, lithe, elegant, able to move with the speed and electric power of lightning or as smoothly as the wind.
    He was an incredible dancer and always a striking competitor. His hair was ebony, his eyes dark as ink, and his features classically flawless. He had amazing technical ability and was a showman to boot. For several years he had competed with Lara, but then it had all fallen apart. They’d been divorced for almost five years before her death. In that time, she’d taken a number of championships, working steadily with Jim Burke. Ben, in the meantime, had grabbed any number of best in shows and number ones and cash prizes, but he hadn’t gone as far as Lara. He’d changed partners too many times. Now his eyes moved over Shannon as he stood in the doorway.
    â€œIt’s a waste,” he said.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œAll the time you’re spending on business.”
    â€œHey!” Gordon said.
    â€œWell, she should be competing.”
    Gordon looked at Shannon, a slight smile curving his lips. “She can go back into competition any time she wants.”
    â€œGentlemen, I’m well aware of that. And I don’t want to compete.”
    â€œYou know, that’s just silly,” Ben said, smoothing back a thatch of hair from his forehead. “You get out there in the Pro-Ams with your students all the time. What’s the difference?”
    â€œThey’re my students.”
    â€œLucky students,” Gordon noted, still amused. “You make them look great.”
    â€œAnd I’m really proud of them when they do well. Why can’t you two understand that? Everyone isn’t ruled by blinding ambition.”
    She sighed. “Look, since I broke my ankle all those years ago, it’s never been the same. I never know when it’s going to give, and after too much practice, it hurts like