Dying for a Dance by Cindy Sample Page A

in his direction and our eyes met. Oh, geez. This was my assistant's concept of blending in?
    Stan put his finger to his lips and I nodded back. There was no need to admit the strange looking dude was a friend of mine. Stan's presence distracted me and I forgot to pay attention to my dancing. Before I knew it, Bobby was not only leading me in the grapevine formation, I was following him. Of course the minute I realized we were dancing well together, my heel stabbed my instep.
    “Owww!” I hopped on my good foot.
    “What happened? You were doing great.”
    I limped off the dance floor and collapsed in a chair. Bobby sat next to me as I pulled off my shoe and massaged my injured foot.
    “Are you okay?” My young teacher's eyes showed his concern. I nodded and he quickly looked in the direction of Boris’ office.
    “Don't worry about him.” I patted his knee. “There's no way we'll let Boris fire you because of me.”
    He slumped in his chair and shoved his hand through his spiky black hair. “It's not only that,” Bobby said, his lips set in a thin line. He laced his fingers together and propped them against his chin.
    “Hey, what is it then?” I looked in Anya's direction. “Girl trouble?”
    He shook his head. “Nah, it's...okay, here's the deal. Dimitri planned on opening his own studio. He already had the space rented. He tried to solicit some of the other guys but like I said before, most of them couldn't stand his guts, although Yuri was considering it. Dimitri offered me almost twice the hourly wage Boris pays me, so I was seriously thinking about making the change. Anya and Tatiana had already agreed to follow him over there and of course they would have taken their students with them.”
    “Did Boris suspect anything?”
    “I don't know.” He shrugged. “Like I said, Boris called me into his office to discuss your progress. Then he made some comment about ungrateful dance instructors so I assumed he was talking about Dimitri and his efforts to solicit me and some of the other pros. I wouldn't be here today if Boris hadn't been willing to take a chance and train me. My background was strictly modern and ballet, but once I discovered ballroom, it's the only style of dance for me.”
    His eyes veered to the right and I followed his gaze. Speak of the devil. Boris stood at the end of the enormous floor, arms crossed, looking as happy as a KGB officer at a Girl Scout wienie roast.
    How upset would Boris have been about his star dancer starting his own studio? Luring some of the instructors and many of their students away? Would he have been angry enough to take desperate measures to eliminate the competition?
    I cast a quick glance back at Boris. His beady black eyes bore into mine. Definitely not someone I wanted to get on the wrong side of. The man looked far more like a member of the Russian Mafia than a world famous ballroom dancer.
    The strains of a sultry tango floated from the studio speakers as Anya led Stan out on the floor. I felt sorry for my pal. Tango was one of the trickier dances to perform with two slow steps followed by three quick ones.
    My feet halted and my mouth dropped open as my buddy expertly maneuvered his professional partner into a corte pose. Who was this strange man dressed in black, sporting a fake moustache and adeptly steering the long limbed instructor across the floor?
    Stan must have memorized some of the steps from the Dancing with the Stars shows he recorded each season. He actually looked like he knew what he was doing. All he needed was a black hat and mask and one would think Zorro had dropped by for a visit.
    Or James Bond.
    On second thought, after contemplating Stan's bizarre outfit—make that Austin Powers.
    The sound of someone clearing his throat startled me. Boris towered over me, his expression as menacing as the villainous Goldfinger. What I wouldn't give to have Sean Connery or any of the former James Bonds standing next to me right now, a chilled martini