Portrait in Crime by Carolyn Keene Page A

the long polished wood rail running along one mirrored wall.
    â€œWe do, but unless you are experienced, the barre is not going to get you very warm.
    â€œI wasn’t going to give you a real ballet lesson,” Sasha continued. “I have learned some great modern dance and jazz moves from some of the American dancers here. I was going to teach you little pieces of each.”
    â€œYou mean I won’t get to float around in pointe shoes and a tutu?” Nancy said, pretending to be disappointed.
    â€œNo,” Sasha replied, taking Nancy seriously. “You need years of training for that. Have you ever taken ballet?”
    Nancy shook her head.
    â€œThen we will stay away from the barre and stick with something fun. Now, breathe out,” Sasha directed. “Just like in aerobics. Don’t bounce when you reach for your toes. Close your eyes and just stretch.”
    When Nancy had loosened up, Sasha pulled her to her feet.
    â€œLet’s dance.” He came up behind her, showing her how to move her arms. “This gesture is from modern dance,” he explained. “It’s from a piece by a famous choreographer. It’s very sensuous.”
    Nancy, feeling the warmth of his muscular body behind her, had to force her mind back to listen to his directions.
    â€œAnd this is a jazz step,” he continued. “Three steps toward me, now bend back around my arm—like this.” He pulled her smoothly down into a dip. “Jazz is the best!”
    â€œWhat about ballet?” Nancy murmured, her head against his arm. His rock-hard biceps held her up effortlessly. It felt wonderful!
    â€œBallet doesn’t have this freedom,” Sasha declared. “Jazz has wonderful emotion.” He spun her around until she was wrapped in his embrace, facing him. He held her that way for a moment before releasing her. “Jazz is made for a man and a woman.”
    They danced in the center of the empty hall, Nancy laughing at her inexperience. “You are wonderful,” he assured her, twirling her around. “You have natural grace. Are you sure you have never had a lesson?”
    â€œJust tap,” she explained, “and karate.”
    â€œThen we should be doing floor exercises, or leaps,” Sasha said.
    Nancy rolled her eyes in mock horror. “I don’t think I’m ready to roll around on the floor today,” she said. “Let’s stick to the basics.”
    Sasha’s face clouded. “You still don’t trust me, do you?”
    Nancy felt bad. She hadn’t meant to sound that way. “Of course I trust you,” she replied, keeping her tone light. As soon as she said it, she knew it was true. She did trust Sasha. It was her own feelings she couldn’t trust!
    â€œThen here is something very basic,” Sasha said. His strong hands grasped her waist. “Put your hands on mine.” He lifted her easily, high above his head, swinging around in a circle.
    â€œBasic ballet,” he murmured as he eased her back down, sliding her body against his.
    â€œWell,” Nancy began, her gaze locked on his, her head whirling. “We’ll certainly be a hit at the Lobster Tank if we try this maneuver there!”
    â€œThen we should,” he said, holding her tightly.
    Nancy swallowed hard. Sasha’s face was inches from hers. “Sasha, I . . .” she began.
    Sasha’s eyes searched Nancy’s, a troubled look on his face. He reached out and touched his finger to her lips. “Do not tell me you will never dance with me again, Nancy.”
    Nancy had a sudden urge to comfort him. She pushed it aside with difficulty. “Sasha,” she said, smiling despite herself, “thanks for the lesson.” She squeezed his arm and pulled away gently. “I think that’s enough for today.”
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    Nancy saw Sasha again in a couple of hours. Cynthia Gray had invited the young