Of course not.
Or that she still had feelings for him?
Absolutely not.
Anastasia leaned back on her bed-rest pillow and stretched her legs out. Since she’d begun tapping, old dance movies were her decompression device. When her phone rang at one-thirty in the morning, she muted the video of Footlight Parade. She wasn’t interested in the lame plot anyway. It was Jimmy Cagney’s footwork she needed to study.
Footlight ParadeShe clicked ACCEPT on her phone. “Are you ready to show me the waltz clog?” Finally, Marty’s voice from LA.
“That sounds pretty sexy. Why aren’t you here?” she asked.
“I wish. How’s it going there? Busy day?”
Anastasia gave Marty a summary of her long day—Trudi, Mrs. Granger, Ed’s concerns about being bought out by a mortuary chain, the need to re-dress Johnny Warne
