Dead On The Dance Floor. Heather Graham

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ise for New York Times Bestselling Author

      Heather Graham

      “Graham shines in this frightening tale. Paranormal elements add zing to her trademark chilling suspense and steamy romance, keeping the pages flying.”

      —Romantic Times on Haunted

      “Graham’s tight plotting, her keen sense of when to reveal and when to tease…will keep fans turning the pages.”

      —Publishers Weekly on Picture Me Dead

      “An incredible storyteller!”

      —Los Angeles Daily News

      “Demonstrating the skills that have made her one of today’s best storytellers, Ms. Graham delivers one of this year’s best books thus far.”

      —Romantic Times on Hurricane Bay

      “A suspenseful, sexy thriller…Graham builds jagged suspense that will keep readers guessing up to the final pages.”

      —Publishers Weekly on Hurricane Bay

      “A roller-coaster ride…fast-paced, thrilling…Heather Graham will keep you in suspense until the very end. Captivating.”

      —Literary Times on Hurricane Bay

      “The talented Ms. Graham once again thrills us. She delivers excitement [and] romance…that keep the pages flipping quickly from beginning to end.”

      —Romantic Times on Night of the Blackbird

      “With the name Heather Graham on the cover, you are guaranteed a good read!”

      —Literary Times

      HEATHER GRAHAM

      DEAD ON THE DANCE FLOOR

      For Ana and John,

       with congratulations on their tremendous successes, and best of luck, always, in the future!

      For Shirley Johnson,

       with the deepest thanks for all your instruction, your smile—and the laughter!

      For Vickie Regan,

       eternally gorgeous, and of course our true reigning diva, Honey Bunch.

      And for Victor,

       who always does me so much better than me! But teaches so much and, with his work, gives to so many.

      Contents

      CHAPTER 1

      CHAPTER 2

      CHAPTER 3

      CHAPTER 4

      CHAPTER 5

      CHAPTER 6

      CHAPTER 7

      CHAPTER 8

      CHAPTER 9

      CHAPTER 10

      CHAPTER 11

      CHAPTER 12

      CHAPTER 13

      CHAPTER 14

      CHAPTER 15

      CHAPTER 16

      CHAPTER 17

      CHAPTER 18

      CHAPTER 19

      CHAPTER 20

      CHAPTER 21

      CHAPTER 22

      CHAPTER 23

      CHAPTER 24

      EPILOGUE

      CHAPTER 1

      There was always something to see on South Beach.

      Always.

      Glittering, balmy, radiant by virtue of the sun by day and neon by night. The rich and beautiful came and played, and everyone else came and watched. The beach sparkled, offering the most spectacular eye candy, gossip, scandal, traffic jams and more. Nearly bare bodies that were beautiful. Nearly bare bodies that were not so beautiful.

      Models, rockers, skaters, bikers, would-be-surfers-were-there-only-some-surf, the MTV crowd, the very old, the very young.

      But tonight there was even more.

      One of the largest and most prestigious ballroom dance competitions in the world was taking place at one of the best-known hotels ever to grace the strip of sand called Miami Beach.

      And with it came Lara Trudeau.

      She spun, she twirled, she floated on air, a blur of crystal color and grace.

      She was, quite simply, beauty in motion.

      Lara demonstrated a grace and perfection of movement that few could even begin to emulate. She had it all, a flair to pin down the unique character of every dance, a face that came alive to the music, a smile that never failed. Judges were known to have said that it was difficult to look down and judge her footwork, much less notice the other couples on the floor, because her smile and her face were so engaging they almost forgot their duties. They had been known to admit that they hadn’t marked other couples as accurately as they might have; Lara was simply so beautiful and spectacular and point-blank good that it was hard to draw their eyes away from her.

      Tonight was no exception.

      Indeed, tonight Lara was more incredible than ever, more seductive, alluring, and glorious. To watch her was to feel that the senses were teased, stroked, awakened, caressed, excited and eased.

      She was alone on the floor, or rather, alone with her partner, Jim Burke. During the cabaret routines, each of the couples in the finals took the floor alone, so there she was, her body a lithe example of feminine perfection in her formfitting ball gown of a thousand colors. Jim, as talented as he was, had become nothing more than an accessory.

      Those who loved her watched in awe, while those who despised her watched with envy.

      Shannon Mackay, current manager of Moonlight Sonata, the independent studio where Lara had long ago begun her career and continued to coach, watched with mixed feelings of wry amusement, not at all sure herself whether she loved Lara or despised her. But there was no denying her talent. Even among the spectacular performances by the best and most accomplished artists in the world community of professional dance, Lara stood out.

      “She is simply incredible,” Shannon said aloud.

      At her side,

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