Heather Graham - Dead on the Dance Floor

Praise 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

Grahams tight plotting, her keen sense of when to reveal and when to teasewill 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 todays best storytellers, Ms. Graham delivers one of this years 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 ridefast-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] romancethat 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

Also by HEATHER GRAHAM

Dead On The Dance Floor

Heather Graham

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 smileand 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.

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 hadnt 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, Ben Trudeau, Laras ex, snorted. Oh, yeah. Just incredible.

Jane Ulrich, who had made it to the semifinals but been edged out at the end, as usual, by Lara, turned to Ben with a brilliant smile.

Oh, Ben. You cant still be bitter. Shes so good, its as if shes not really of this earth.

Shannon smiled at Janes compliment. Jane was stun

ning that night herself; her figure lean and trim, and her waltz gown, a deep crimson, set off her dark coloring in a blaze of glittering fire.

Id rather dance with you, Janes partner, Sam Railey, said softly, giving her a squeeze. You, my love, actually dance with someone. Lara uses her partner like a prop.

But she is brilliant, just brilliant, Gordon Henson, owner of the studio, said. He was the one who had first taught Lara, and his pride was justified.

Lets face itshes a mean, ambitious bitch whod walk over a friends dead body to get where she wanted to go, said Justin Garcia, one of the studios upcoming salsa specialists.

Next to him, Rhianna Markham, another contender, laughed delightedly. Cmon, Justin, say what you really feel.

Shannon nudged Rhianna and said softly, Careful. Were surrounded by our students. And they were, since the hotel was just north of the South Beach area where the studio was located. As a teaching institution, it was the envy of many a competitor, for not only was it located in the lime

light of a varied and heavily populated area, it was situated right on top of a club that had turned into a true hot spot over the past few years, since it had been bought by charismatic young Latin American entrepreneur Gabriel Lopezwho had come this evening, as well, in support of his friends. Due to the proximity of the event, even a number of the studios more casual students had come, entranced to see the very best of the best, competitors from all over the world.

Shes just gorgeous, Rhianna said loudly enough to be overheard, making a conspiratorial face at Shannon and lowering her head. Shannon had to grin.

But then Gordon whispered to her softly, You should have been out there. You could have been more gorgeous.

She shook her head. I like teaching, not competing.

Chicken?

She grinned. I know when Im outclassed.

Never outclassed, he said, and squeezed her hand. On the dance floor, Lara executed another perfect lift, spiraling down her partners body in perfect unity with the music.

There was a tap on Shannons shoulder. At first, she paid no attention to it. The crowd was massive, including students, teachers, amateurs, professionals, press and those who just liked to watch. A jostle meant nothing as everyone vied for space from which to watch the spectacle. The tap came again. Frowning, Shannon half turned. The sides of the stage were dark, cast in shadow by the spotlights on the floor. She couldnt see the person summoning her, but it might have been the waiter behind her, a man dressed in tails. Strange, tonight the wait staff, some of the judges and many of the contenders were dressed almost alike.

Yes? she murmured, puzzled.

Youre next, he said.

Next? she queried. But the man, whose face she hadnt really seen, was already gone. He must have been mistaken. She wasnt competing.

Ooh! Jane said. Shes unbelievable!