Dead on Her Feet (An Antonia Blakeley Tango Mystery Book 1) by Lisa Fernow Page B

return I’m going to show you how to do a proper voleo.” He strode away.
    Bobby turned back to Barbara and was astonished to see her shoulders heaving with stifled mirth. Had she engineered the whole accident? He knew women could be manipulative but somehow he’d not expected it of her. “What exactly are you up to?”
    Barbara clamped her palm over her mouth. Tears of merriment filled her eyes.
    ***
    Bobby calculated his progress. He’d managed to get dances with Antonia, Barbara, two other women from class, and one visiting gal from Macon. Five acceptances. Of the two rejections—Barbara not wanting to dance earlier counted as a postponement—one had previously engaged to dance with someone else and the other turned out to prefer open style, so that was no great loss. All in all an acceptable success rate. He’d sat out the Piazzola and alternative sets as the music was too advanced. He’d hoped to dance the traditional last song, “La Cumparsita”, with Barbara, but Roland preempted him, so he decided to step outside.
    It had rained. The air smelt fresh rather than crisp. October could be a tricky month for weather in Atlanta. That night, it felt closer to sixty. Pleasant.
    Eventually the dancers began to trickle out. Antonia tried to persuade him to join her and Christian at the diner for scrambled eggs but the hour was late and he had a twenty-minute drive to Druid Hills which would put him home at one thirty. While his first class wasn’t until the afternoon he had papers to grade. He watched Antonia drive off in her battered Audi and went to find his car.
    His Volvo was stationed at the end of the row closest to the exit. He had a little trouble locating it because he’d not paid attention to where he’d parked, and the streetlamp had burned out, leaving his section of the lot in darkness. He remembered Barbara had come to Sanctuary alone. It wasn’t safe for her to be in a dark parking lot, unescorted. He walked back and finally sighted her Toyota a few feet from the entrance. He recognized it from the “Archaeology: no, we don’t dig up dinosaurs” and “What happens in the field, stays in the field” bumper stickers. He couldn’t read them in that light but he had seen them often enough. She must still be inside the nightclub. He tramped back to his car.
    Barbara finally emerged from the club with Roland, teetering on her high heels, her purse swinging back and forth on its chain from her narrow shoulder. Roland placed his hand on the small of her back to steady her.
    She’d drunk quite a bit of champagne. Perhaps he ought to stay around to make sure she was sober enough to drive and, he had to be intellectually honest, to make sure Roland didn’t try to take advantage of her. Lotharios made passes at attractive young women. Roland was a Lothario; ergo, Roland might make a pass at Barbara.
    Bobby knew he had no official standing. He wasn’t a father or a brother or a—he considered whether to go up to them, to casually let Roland know Barbara was not without … without … connections? Protectors?
    Before Bobby could advertise his presence Roland drew Barbara into his arms and placed his lips on hers in a lecherous kiss. She didn’t pull away. On the contrary.
    Bobby watched, transfixed, as Roland’s hand traveled down Barbara’s spine, passing over her posterior. Roland’s fingers caressed the back of her thigh and then reversed direction, creeping under her dress. Barbara squirmed.
    Bobby looked down and found his hands had clenched into fists.
     
     
     
     
     

CHAPTER 15
    Discovery
     
    NATHALIE FUMED. Roland had a lot of nerve putting her into a taxi instead of escorting her home to his place.
    She knew exactly why he stayed at Sanctuary. He wanted to get even with her for not sleeping with him earlier. Well, if he expected to touch her tonight he’d better have a damn good apology. Struggling a little with the lock, she let herself into Roland’s house.
    She tossed the key