buzzed with lust. “Too fast,”
I murmured, unable to keep my eyes off his full lips.
They grazed mine again, teasingly. “You’re sure?”
“No, but you’ve got to go anyway.”
Laughing, he released me. With a foot of air between us, I could feel sanity returning
and I unlocked the door.
“See you tomorrow at practice,” Zane said, as I slipped inside. “Eight o’clock, Nigel
said.” The hall light I’d left on struck gold from his tawny hair and highlighted
the planes of his face.
“Don’t think I’ll take it easy on you just because you were up late,” I warned, and
closed the door on his laugh. I leaned back against it to prevent myself from opening
it and hauling him inside.
Chapter 11
I gave a private, forty-five-minute lesson at seven Friday morning to one of my reshuffled
students who had generously agreed to come in before work for his lesson, so I was
glowing with the joy of dancing (and perhaps a bit of perspiration) when the film
crew arrived. Vitaly bounced in moments after the camera guy and Ariel arrived, and
Phoebe and Zane arrived together, both clutching large coffees and looking like they
would have preferred an extra two or three hours’ sleep.
Ariel whisked me into makeup in the small powder room before I had a chance to do
more than exchange “Good mornings” with Zane. Wearing her usual tight white T-shirt
and faded jeans, she complained that makeup would slip off my sweaty face.
“I thought this was a ‘reality’ show and we were supposed to look natural,” I countered
as she swept damp toner pads over my skin.
She grinned and her red hair spilled over her shoulders as she dabbed foundation on
my cheeks and forehead. “Trust me—you’ll look natural, only better,” she said. “There
are varying degrees of ‘reality,’ don’t you think?”
“That’s way too profound for this early in the morning.”
She laughed and made me close my lids so she could dust them with a pale taupe powder
and lightly line them with a brown pencil. She added just enough mascara to darken
my lashes and stepped back, surveying the effect. “There. Natural, but better. Not
so . . .”
“Washed out? Death warmed over? You can say it, Ariel; I know what I look like in
the morning.”
Laughing again, she began getting out the shades that would look good on Phoebe. “Can
you tell Phoebe I’m ready for her?”
“Sure,” I said, unwrapping the bib-length smock draped around my neck. “Hey, that
night you all went to Club Nitro, did you hitch a ride with Tessa King?”
If she thought my interest was strange, she didn’t show it. Sadness settled on her
face. “No, we were supposed to go together, but Phoebe needed a ride and Tessa only
had a two-seater, so Fred gave me a lift. He works publicity.”
I went in search of Phoebe and found the action star warming up by marching in place.
“Ariel’s ready for you,” I said.
“Thanks.”
Before she could leave, I asked, “You don’t know where Tessa’s car is, do you? I understand
you rode to Club Nitro with her Tuesday night. Did she take you back to the hotel,
too?”
Phoebe gave me a wary look. “What’s it to you?”
“Stacy’s investigating Tessa’s death,” Nigel broke in. “I think it’ll be ratings gold.”
Wincing, I turned to see him come out of the ballroom, trailed by the camera guy who
had clearly filmed my short interaction with Phoebe. She looked from me to Nigel,
a frown gathering on her brow. “What the hell for? Wasn’t it an accident?”
Wishing I could strangle Nigel, and wishing I’d been more discreet, I fumbled for
an explanation. “The cops don’t seem to think it was an accident,” I said, “and I
wanted . . . well, after Rafe was shot here . . .”
“Who? What? Someone was shot here?” Phoebe pointed to the floor, her face a mask of
astonishment.
I nodded. “My former partner, Rafe Acosta, was shot to
I murmured, unable to keep my eyes off his full lips.
They grazed mine again, teasingly. “You’re sure?”
“No, but you’ve got to go anyway.”
Laughing, he released me. With a foot of air between us, I could feel sanity returning
and I unlocked the door.
“See you tomorrow at practice,” Zane said, as I slipped inside. “Eight o’clock, Nigel
said.” The hall light I’d left on struck gold from his tawny hair and highlighted
the planes of his face.
“Don’t think I’ll take it easy on you just because you were up late,” I warned, and
closed the door on his laugh. I leaned back against it to prevent myself from opening
it and hauling him inside.
Chapter 11
I gave a private, forty-five-minute lesson at seven Friday morning to one of my reshuffled
students who had generously agreed to come in before work for his lesson, so I was
glowing with the joy of dancing (and perhaps a bit of perspiration) when the film
crew arrived. Vitaly bounced in moments after the camera guy and Ariel arrived, and
Phoebe and Zane arrived together, both clutching large coffees and looking like they
would have preferred an extra two or three hours’ sleep.
Ariel whisked me into makeup in the small powder room before I had a chance to do
more than exchange “Good mornings” with Zane. Wearing her usual tight white T-shirt
and faded jeans, she complained that makeup would slip off my sweaty face.
“I thought this was a ‘reality’ show and we were supposed to look natural,” I countered
as she swept damp toner pads over my skin.
She grinned and her red hair spilled over her shoulders as she dabbed foundation on
my cheeks and forehead. “Trust me—you’ll look natural, only better,” she said. “There
are varying degrees of ‘reality,’ don’t you think?”
“That’s way too profound for this early in the morning.”
She laughed and made me close my lids so she could dust them with a pale taupe powder
and lightly line them with a brown pencil. She added just enough mascara to darken
my lashes and stepped back, surveying the effect. “There. Natural, but better. Not
so . . .”
“Washed out? Death warmed over? You can say it, Ariel; I know what I look like in
the morning.”
Laughing again, she began getting out the shades that would look good on Phoebe. “Can
you tell Phoebe I’m ready for her?”
“Sure,” I said, unwrapping the bib-length smock draped around my neck. “Hey, that
night you all went to Club Nitro, did you hitch a ride with Tessa King?”
If she thought my interest was strange, she didn’t show it. Sadness settled on her
face. “No, we were supposed to go together, but Phoebe needed a ride and Tessa only
had a two-seater, so Fred gave me a lift. He works publicity.”
I went in search of Phoebe and found the action star warming up by marching in place.
“Ariel’s ready for you,” I said.
“Thanks.”
Before she could leave, I asked, “You don’t know where Tessa’s car is, do you? I understand
you rode to Club Nitro with her Tuesday night. Did she take you back to the hotel,
too?”
Phoebe gave me a wary look. “What’s it to you?”
“Stacy’s investigating Tessa’s death,” Nigel broke in. “I think it’ll be ratings gold.”
Wincing, I turned to see him come out of the ballroom, trailed by the camera guy who
had clearly filmed my short interaction with Phoebe. She looked from me to Nigel,
a frown gathering on her brow. “What the hell for? Wasn’t it an accident?”
Wishing I could strangle Nigel, and wishing I’d been more discreet, I fumbled for
an explanation. “The cops don’t seem to think it was an accident,” I said, “and I
wanted . . . well, after Rafe was shot here . . .”
“Who? What? Someone was shot here?” Phoebe pointed to the floor, her face a mask of
astonishment.
I nodded. “My former partner, Rafe Acosta, was shot to
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