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She damped down the fears. No. She was going to work hard. She was going to beat the clumsiness. And she most definitely wasn’t going to let what had happened with Harry shred her confidence. She’d been totally professional and given her best on Monday Mash-up, and she’d do exactly the same on Ballroom Glitz.
‘And now the moment you’ve been waiting for—the official line-up,’ Millie, the glamorous presenter of the show, announced.
There was a drum roll while the dancers stood on the floor, waiting for their partners to join them, and the celebs lined the staircase.
You’re not going to trip, Polly told herself firmly. You’re not going to trip. Take it step by step. Remember to smile for the cameras.
She barely took in which male celebrity was paired with which female dancer. She felt like a rabbit caught in the headlights. But then it came to the girls, and her hands went clam my.
‘And with André …’ Please, please, not me, she begged silently.
She breathed a sigh of relief as Jane, the comedienne, was announced as his partner. Mr No-Sense-of-Humour with the comic: the pairing appealed to Polly’s sense of mischief. It was exactly what she would’ve done, as a producer. What Harry would’ve done.
Forget about Harry, she reminded herself sharply. He isn’t here and he isn’t part of your life any more.
‘With Marco …’ Imogen, the model. They made a beautiful couple.
‘With Sergei …’ Her heart skipped a beat. Would it be her?
‘Lina.’ The pop singer. Another glamorous, beautiful couple. Which meant …
‘And finally, with Liam, Polly Anna Adams.’
She walked down the stairs, smiling for the cameras, and walked over to Liam as everyone applauded.
Wow. That gorgeous smile she’d seen on the small screen was even more devastating in the flesh. Liam Flynn was stunning. His skin was very pale, in sharp contrast to his dark hair, and there was a light sprinkling of stubble on his cheeks that made her itch to reach out and trail her fingertips across it.
Not that she’d do that. Especially in front of the cameras. She wasn’t going to make a fool of herself.
But he had a beautiful mouth. Full, generous—lush.
And his eyes were almost navy blue. With his colouring, they were absolutely mesmerising.
She bit her lip, hoping that he hadn’t noticed her giving him the eye. And what on earth was she doing, having thoughts like this about another man merely a week before her wedding-day-that-wasn’t? Clearly she was letting the roar of the crowd and the glitziness of the lights get to her.
She shook herself. Be professional. That was what she had to do. And do it now.
Polly Anna Adams was much prettier in the flesh than she’d been in the video clips, with huge eyes, a heart-shaped face and a perfect rosebud mouth that just invited Liam to rub his thumb along her lower lip.
Though he had no intention of giving in to the mad temptation. This was strictly business. And he didn’t do involvement on any level, any more. Not since Bianca. He’d learned the hard way that he was better off on his own. Besides, he didn’t have the time. He had a business to set up and a career to get back on track.
He dutifully kissed Polly’s cheeks for the audience, and caught her scent. Light, floral with a hint of vanilla. Sweet and innocent. Nothing like the sultry, spicy scent that Bianca had used.
She reminded him of Audrey Hepburn, with that urchin haircut and those huge chocolate-brown eyes. The wardrobe department had obviously clocked that, too, giving her a simple black shift dress teamed with long silky gloves, a pearl choker, and classic high-heeled court shoes. The outfit wasn’t like the eye-wincingly bright clothes Polly Anna had worn in the video clips—of course not, because she needed casual clothing to do all the mad stuff with the kids on Monday Mash-up—but it suited her down to the ground. Glamorous, graceful …
And then she slipped on those high, high heels as she turned to face the audience.
Scratch graceful, he thought wryly.
Automatically, he caught her and steadied her.
‘Thanks,’ she mouthed, and her blush was visible right through the studio pan stick. ‘And sorry.’
But the audience weren’t laughing at the unintended slapstick. They were clapping even more. Because she’d shown that she was human, just like them: not some impossibly glamorous model or pop star they could only be like in their dreams.
Once the show was off air and they were heading back towards the Green Room, Polly bit her lip. ‘I’m really sorry about that. I’m not used to walking in heels.’
Or dancing, Liam thought, but he couldn’t quite be unkind enough to say so. ‘Tomorrow’s Sunday. Are you OK to start training then, or do you need to be in rehearsals for your show?’
‘I’m—I guess you’d say resting, right now,’ she admitted, looking awkward.
Showbiz-speak for unemployed. Which gave her a real motivation for staying in the competition.
‘I can fit training sessions around whatever suits you. If I get any auditions, I should be able to give you at least a day’s notice,’ she finished.
‘Good. Lark or owl?’
She blinked. ‘I’m sorry?’
Lord, her eyes were gorgeous. He could drown in them.
He pushed the thought away. For pity’s sake. He needed to concentrate on doing his job, not let himself get distracted by a pretty face. Hadn’t he learned a thing from his past? ‘Are you better working earlier or later in the day?’
‘Oh. I’m a morning person. As long as I’ve had a cup of coffee, first.’ She gave him what he thought might be the first real smile he’d seen from her, one that put a dimple in her cheek and a sparkle in those huge eyes. A smile that made him catch his breath.
‘Fine. I’ll see you tomorrow at eight, then, at my studio.’ He handed her a business card, and his skin tingled where his fingers brushed against hers. Which was insane: he couldn’t afford to let himself get distracted. ‘My mobile number’s on the back, in case you’re going to be late or can’t make it.’
‘Thank you. I’m sorry, I don’t have a business card with me, but I’ll text you on the way home so you have my number,’ she said.
‘Fine. See you at eight, then,’ Liam said. And then he left abruptly, before he let himself do something totally stupid. Like wondering if her lips were as soft and as sweet as they looked. And then being tempted to dip his head to find out …
CHAPTER TWO
LIAM glanced at his watch when the studio’s entry-system intercom buzzed the next morning. Five to eight. Polly Anna was actually on time.
He’d always had to give Bianca a fake deadline two hours earlier than the real one, to give them a hope of being on time—whether it was work or a social event—and it had driven him crazy.
At least Polly Anna was sparing him that. So far.
‘Hello? It’s Polly Anna Adams, here for training with Mr Flynn.’
‘Let’s drop the formalities. I’m Liam,’ he said. ‘I’ll buzz you in. The studio’s on the third floor.’
He waited in the reception area for her to walk up the two flights of stairs. As she emerged through the door, she caught her bag on the door handle, and the door banged against her.
Her face went crimson. ‘I’m so sorry, Mr Fl—Liam,’ she corrected herself.
Impatience warred with being charmed. Charmed won. Just. ‘It’s fine, Polly Anna. Are you OK?’
She nodded. ‘Everyone calls me Polly.’
‘Polly. Come through to the studio and we can talk about the training schedule.’ He gestured towards the studio door.
He assessed Polly swiftly as she walked across the room. She’d replaced yesterday’s glamorous outfit and high heels with loose black trousers and a loose long-sleeved black top, teamed with flat shoes. Despite the camouflage of her clothes, he could see that she didn’t have a dancer’s physique, and she moved without a dancer’s easy grace.
A total beginner, then. He’d need to push her.
‘What dancing experience do you have?’ he asked.
‘None. Except a little bit of street dance on the show,’ she admitted, confirming his assessment, ‘and I was absolutely hopeless. It’s just as well they didn’t show that clip on Saturday night.’
Her smile had turned super-bright. Defence mode again, he guessed. He had no idea why, and he wasn’t going to ask. ‘You must have danced at some point in your life, even if it was just at a wedding.’
Was it his imagination, or did she just flinch?
‘I’ve swayed with someone on a dance floor a couple of times, yes, but that’s about it.’
‘How about aerobics classes?’ Some of them used dance routines.
She shook her head. ‘I’ve never had a gym membership or gone to any kind of class. I’m not really one for exercise, apart from the stuff they got me to do on Monday Mash-up,’ she admitted. ‘I’d much rather curl up on the sofa with a good book or watch a movie.’
Whereas doing something so passive would bore him witless; he was happiest when he was dancing, losing himself in the music and pushing his body to its limits.
She looked awkward. ‘You’ve probably worked out already that I’m a bit clumsy.’
Yes, and part of him found it endearing. But being soft on her wouldn’t get the job done. He pushed the thought away. ‘Do you sing or play an instrument?’
‘No.’
Well, it didn’t necessarily mean that she wasn’t musical. Maybe she just hadn’t had the opportunity to learn to play something. ‘OK.’ He remembered what she’d said the previous day. ‘Do you want a coffee before we start?’
She shook her head. ‘Thanks, but I’m already caffeined up.’
He’d just bet she was worrying about spilling her drink. And that smile had turned a little too bright again. He ought to be nice and reassure her. But he’d done his fair share of helping lame ducks in the past, and look where that had got him. Divorced and having to build up his life again from ground zero. He didn’t need any more disruption.
Particularly as he couldn’t deny that he found Polly attractive. Those wide eyes. That perfect rosebud mouth.
Not good. He needed to keep this strictly professional. This was work. He took his iPod from his pocket. ‘Right, let’s start with the basics. I’m going to play you snippets from a few songs, and I want you to tell me if you can hear the beat of the music in each one. Tap it out on your knee or the table, or whatever makes you comfortable. And try to emphasise the strong beat in the bar.’
‘The strong beat?’ She looked mystified.
He was really going to have his work cut out here. ‘The first beat of the bar is the strongest and you’ll hear that more easily than anything else. Don’t worry about the introduction. Just tap your finger when you feel you can hear a strong beat, and count from that until the next strong beat. You’ll hear it as one-two-three, or one-two-three-four.’
‘OK.’
He flicked into the first track, a waltz he’d deliberately chosen to have a clear triple-time beat. When Polly stumbled over tapping out the rhythm and was clearly cross with herself for not being able to do it, he tapped it out for her. ‘Can you hear it now?’ he asked.
‘Sorry,’ she said with a grimace. ‘Obviously I’m tone-deaf as well as clumsy.’
Yeah. For a moment, Liam wished he’d been paired with the pop singer. At least she would’ve been able to grasp the basics. Still, he’d been partnered with Polly and he had to make the best of it. ‘Try and listen to as much different music as you can, listen to the beat and practise.’
‘Right.’
So far, so bad. He stifled a sigh. ‘Ballroom dancing is just following a set pattern of steps and matching them to the music. Let’s start with a basic forward and reverse.’
‘We’re going to dance right now?’ She looked horrified.
Just for a second, Liam found himself wanting to reassure her. Polly was very close to getting under his skin. Which rattled him to the point where he found himself being snippy with her, to stop his thoughts going any further in that direction. ‘Did you think we’d wait until the morning of the show before we started practising?’
Her face went a dull red. ‘No.’ She glanced at the sprung wood floor. ‘Do I need to take my shoes off?’
‘No.’ He looked at her flat shoes. ‘But if you have some shoes with a slight heel that you can bring with you, next time, you’ll find it easier on your calves and ankles.’
‘Do I need to wear a skirt?’
‘As long as it doesn’t restrict your movements, you can wear anything you like.’
Although she’d worked in TV for long enough to know that most people worked hard to maintain an image for the screen, Polly was still disappointed to realise that Liam Flynn wasn’t the sweet, smiling guy he’d always seemed on the show. He was clearly trying to suppress his impatience—OK, so her clumsiness would drive anyone crazy—but he hadn’t even tried to put her at ease.
Well, she’d just have to make the best of this. Even if training turned out to be some nightmare boot camp, she needed to stay on the show. She wanted her perfect life back. And Ballroom Glitz was the best way to get it.
She gave him her brightest smile. ‘So how much time do you think we’ll need for training?’
‘We’ll do four hours today, maybe more tomorrow. Let’s see how it goes. Though we’ll avoid the evenings. I don’t want to cause problems with your partner.’
So he hadn’t been that fully briefed about her, then—and he definitely hadn’t read the gossip rags, or he’d know that Harry had called off the wedding last weekend. Celebrity Life had run a centre spread the previous Thursday entitled ‘Poor Polly’, showing her looking a wreck and Grace looking utterly stunning.
Well, she wasn’t going to bring up the subject of her wedding-that-wasn’t. She didn’t want Liam’s pity. This was her new life, and she wasn’t letting any of her old life spill into this one and get in the way. ‘I’m single.’ She hadn’t cried about the break-up yet and she wasn’t going to start now. She lifted her chin and gave him another brilliant smile. ‘So it isn’t a problem.’
‘Good. We’ll start with the frame. If you watched the show before, you might’ve heard the judges talk about the “frame”.’
‘Yes.’
‘The frame is what helps me lead you round the dance floor. It means our movements are synchronised and in time.’ He stood in front of her, both arms bent at the elbow and resting against her sides.
Her pulse kicked up a notch at the contact. Unexpected, and scary at the same time; she hadn’t even reacted physically like this to Harry, and she’d been going to marry him.
Nerves. It had to be nerves, she told herself, and her brain was so scrambled that it was misinterpreting her reactions. This wasn’t attraction. It couldn’t be. She didn’t even like the man.
‘With your left hand, you’re going to make a vee with your thumb and middle finger,’ he said, ‘and you’re going to rest that on the vee in my muscles.’
It was suddenly hard to breathe. She was up close and personal with Liam Flynn. On TV, he was gorgeous. In the flesh, he was really something. She’d just have to remember that his charm was only for the cameras. And charm wasn’t something she trusted any more. Not after the way Harry had let her down.
‘Start at my elbow and push your hand up until you find the vee,’ Liam instructed.
And now she was touching him. Running her fingers over his bare skin, because he was wearing a vest-type T-shirt. And every nerve in her body felt as if it had just sat up and begged.
Oh, help. Looking at and appreciating a fine male form was perfectly acceptable—expected, even, in her world—but getting this warm, sensual coil of desire in her belly … That was scary. Not what she needed or wanted right now.
