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She nodded. ‘Sorry. It must be annoying for you.’
‘No. It’s good to have friends looking out for you.’
Something in his tone alerted her. ‘Didn’t your friends do that, after your accident?’
‘Yes and no.’ He grimaced. ‘A lot of them were worried about seeing me. They thought it’d be like rubbing it in, because they could still dance and I couldn’t.’
She frowned. ‘I know I only met you a week ago, but that doesn’t sound like the way you’d react.’
‘It isn’t. I guess they didn’t know me as well as I thought they did. It was good just to talk about dancing—and, even if I couldn’t dance again, I still intended to be involved in dance. Choreography.’
‘Is that what you want to do after the competition—choreograph things?’ she asked.
He nodded. ‘I want to choreograph a musical for Broadway or the West End. I’ve done most of the routines for the professionals on Ballroom Glitz, this series.’
‘So you need to win the competition, to get the producers to notice you.’
He shrugged. ‘Being in the final would do.’
‘No pressure, then,’ she said wryly.
‘What about you?’ he asked.
‘Hopefully, being on Ballroom Glitz will bring me to the attention of another producer and give me a chance to do something else in children’s TV. Or maybe … It’s probably a bit too ambitious, given that I’m not exactly an A-lister, but I’ve had enough experience now to know what works with kids. I might put together a proposal for a show and pitch it to the networks.’
‘Another children’s show?’
At her nod, he said, ‘So you prefer working with kids rather than, say, acting onstage or on screen?’
‘Absolutely. You get really spontaneous reactions from kids, much more than you do with adults, and it makes the live shows more interesting. You have to think on your feet.’
‘Was the whole show live?’ He grimaced. ‘Sorry, that’s rude. I ought to know that.’
She laughed. ‘You’re hardly our target audience. Most of the people who watch us are aged between nine and about fourteen.’
‘And I don’t have kids,’ he said. ‘Though Amanda says her kids love the show.’
‘Thank you.’ She remembered his question. ‘About two-thirds of it’s live; the rest is pre-recorded. We all have different slots. “Charlie’s Charts” is where he goes through the new music releases that week, with video clips. “Mike’s Movies” is—well, obvious.’ She smiled. ‘“Danny’s Dance” is where he teaches some of the kids in the studio a street-dance move, and then I have “Challenge Polly Anna”. It started off as “Polly’s Puzzles”, where I’d give everyone a brain teaser to solve, but then one day one of the kids in the studio gave me a challenge in return, and it snowballed from there. So I’ve done everything from being able to eat a doughnut without licking my lips, through to juggling raw eggs.’
Liam raised an eyebrow. ‘How many did you break?’
‘Enough for a few omelettes,’ she said with a grin. ‘I practised with rubber eggs until I was nearly there.’
‘You don’t give up until you’ve done whatever it is, do you?’
‘I try not to, though sometimes I haven’t been able to beat the challenge. I really couldn’t get the hang of roller skating, so ice skating was a definite no-no.’
‘Noted.’ He looked thoughtful. ‘You know, we could get juggling into a routine. A circus theme for the jive, maybe. I’ll think about it.’
‘I’m in your hands.’ Then she realised how cheesy that sounded. ‘Not that I was coming on to you,’ she added swiftly.
‘Of course not.’
Polly glanced at her watch, and was surprised by how late it was. ‘I’d better go home.’
‘I’ll drive you.’
‘No, it’s fine. I can take the Tube, and I’m sure you have other things to do anyway.’
‘I do have some paperwork to go through,’ he admitted. ‘But I don’t want you walking anywhere. It’s pouring with rain. I’ll call you a cab—and don’t argue. If you’re sneezing your way through the routine next Saturday, you’re not going to enjoy it, are you?’
And if she was distracted by fighting off some bug or other, she was more likely to go wrong following the steps of the routine. She wasn’t naïve enough to think that his concern was all for her. ‘I guess you have a point. Thank you.’
He rang the taxi company. When he put the phone down, he said, ‘They’ll be here in fifteen minutes.’
‘Thank you.’
They looked at one another in silence for a moment and the atmosphere became charged. Liam thought of something quickly to say.
‘So, our training tomorrow. Does the afternoon work for you? It’ll give me a chance to sort out a new routine in the morning.’
‘I’m sorry about that.’ Deciding to be brave, she lifted her chin. ‘Look, I can give your original routine a go.’
‘To the song you planned as the first dance at your wedding reception?’ He shook his head. ‘I’m not going to put you through that. Anyway, as I said, I like choreographing. Is “Beyond the Sea” OK for you?’ He hummed the first few bars of the old Bobby Darin song.
Recognising it, Polly remembered that they’d danced to it before. ‘That’s absolutely fine.’
‘Good.’
Then the intercom buzzed. ‘That’s your taxi.’
‘OK. I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon.’ She paused. ‘And thank you for this evening.’ For not letting her go home to a lonely, empty flat.
‘No worries. I’ll see you downstairs.’
‘There’s no need, really. I think I can just about manage a couple of flights of stairs.’
‘You can manage anything you put your mind to. And that includes nailing our routine.’
Liam really intended just to shake her hand. In a brotherly way. Except he found himself dipping his head and kissing her on the cheek. Hesitant, a little awkward; but her skin was so soft around his lips, and he could smell that sweet, fresh, floral scent she wore. He couldn’t resist the temptation to linger. And he only just managed to stop himself kissing a line from her cheek to the corner of her mouth—and then taking it further.
The kiss on the cheek was just like any of the team on Monday Mash-up would have done.
Except this didn’t feel like a brotherly kiss. Where Liam’s lips touched Polly’s skin, they made every nerve-end tingle.
Though she was just being ridiculous, she told herself on the way home in the taxi. Nice Liam wasn’t just for the cameras; she had a feeling that that was who he really was. Who he’d always been. But the accident and Bianca’s betrayal had made him grow a shell to cover up that niceness. Being Mr Snippy meant that he didn’t let people close to him—and that in turn meant he wouldn’t get hurt.
The fact that he was starting to open up to her, be Nice Liam again … Well, if he wanted her to trust him, he had to trust her, too. Maybe he’d worked that out for himself.
And she was overanalysing things. Overreacting to a kiss that hadn’t meant anything more than it would’ve done from Danny, Mike or Charlie. She was stupid to wish for more; or maybe she was just overemotional and mixed-up, given what today should’ve been.
She let herself into the flat. Although it was tiny, it felt empty.
‘Polly Anna Adams, don’t you dare be so wet,’ she told herself.
And she wasn’t going to let herself think about what Harry was doing tonight.
At all.
On Sunday, Polly arrived at Liam’s studio in the afternoon, as they’d arranged.
Would he mention the kiss? she wondered. Would it have changed things between them? Would he throw up a huge brick wall between them?
His expression was unreadable. She really wasn’t sure which way this was going to go. His eyes narrowed slightly, as if he’d noticed the shadows beneath her eyes; but then he seemed to switch into professional mode.
‘Ready for the routine?’ he asked.
‘Sure,’ she said, glad to follow his lead. Glad that he wasn’t going to overanalyse that kiss on her cheek—she’d already done that more than enough.
The music was upbeat, lively and fun. He broke the routine down into segments for her and talked her through the steps.
‘I can’t believe you’ve put this routine together so quickly.’
He shrugged off the compliment, though a glitter in those gorgeous navy blue eyes told her that he was pleased. ‘I told you I liked choreographing.’
The training session went incredibly quickly; at the end, Liam said, ‘I’ve been thinking. You really ought to go to the wardrobe department tomorrow afternoon to sort out your dress for Saturday. And it might be useful to practise the last few days of the routine in a skirt, so wearing the costume doesn’t throw you on the night.’
Polly bit her lip. The wardrobe department. They’d styled her as Audrey Hepburn, last time; hopefully this time they’d give her a pair of long gloves again, or if not then a dress with long sleeves. Or maybe she could tell them she was superstitious and she’d get stage fright with short sleeves …
Though she knew that Liam wouldn’t buy that. Eventually, he’d ask why she always covered her wrists. But she couldn’t face telling him the shameful truth.
She cleared her throat. ‘Were you planning to go with me?’
‘I’m teaching the cast a new routine tomorrow. If you’re desperate for a second opinion, I can probably spare you five minutes. But the show’s been running for six years, now, and Rhoda in the wardrobe department’s very experienced. You’ll be fine.’
‘So does she choose the dress for me?’
‘She’ll probably offer you a selection,’ Liam explained. ‘She knows you’re dancing the foxtrot, so she’ll find you some costumes that suit the dance—but it’s your choice within that selection. I’ll be in a black tailcoat with a white shirt and a white tie, so you won’t clash with me, whatever colour you choose.’
‘Any colour I like?’ she tested.
He wrinkled his nose. ‘Maybe not quite as bright as the stuff you used to wear on Monday Mash-up.’
She laughed. ‘Very tactful. OK. Noted. Something classy. Anything else I need to look for?’
‘Keep the hem of your dress just above your ankle, so your heel won’t catch in the material, and pick shoes with a similar heel height to the ones you’ve been dancing in. And you’ll need to dance in them for the rest of the week, so you get used to the weight and the feel of them.’
‘OK.’ She summoned up a smile. ‘See you tomorrow.’
Monday’s training session went well, but Polly’s confidence had evaporated by the time she got to the wardrobe department. Thankfully one of the dresses Rhoda had selected for her had long sleeves; it was the right length, too. Sea green and floaty, with silver shoes.
Looking at herself in the mirror, Polly thought, Nobody at Monday Mash-up would recognise me. She wasn’t sure she recognised herself. But that was a good thing—wasn’t it?
‘So what’s your dress like?’ Liam asked Polly, the next morning.
‘Green.’
He raised an eyebrow
‘What’s the problem?’ she asked.
‘You’re not superstitious, then?’
She rolled her eyes. ‘Don’t tell me you are.’
‘No.’ But he didn’t sound too sure.
‘It’s all rubbish about green being an unlucky colour. And yellow. I used to wear lime green all the time on Monday Mash-up.’
‘Lime green,’ he said, sounding thoughtful. ‘Is that what you chose?’
Unable to resist teasing him, she pointed out, ‘You said I wouldn’t clash with you, whatever I chose.’
‘Lime green. Okay-y-y,’ he said. ‘Tomorrow, you need to wear a skirt to training. Did you bring your shoes?’
‘I forgot,’ she admitted. ‘I’ll bring them tomorrow.’
‘And they match your dress?’
‘They’re silver,’ she said. Which would tell him nothing about the colour of her dress. ‘You’ll see the dress on Saturday.’
But she duly wore a skirt and the silver shoes on Wednesday. They polished the routine on Thursday and Friday, pausing only to do a quick video of their training progress for the Step by Step programme. By the end of the last training session, Polly was totally sick of ‘Beyond the Sea’ and swore privately that she’d never, ever listen to the song again after the show on Saturday.
‘Do something that helps you relax, tonight,’ Liam said as she was about to leave the studio. ‘Read a good book or curl up on the sofa with a film.’
She scoffed. ‘I’m surprised you’re not telling me to go on a five-mile run.’
‘No, that’s what I’d do to relax.’
‘So are we training tomorrow morning?’
‘No, because we have a dress rehearsal in the afternoon. I don’t want to overdo things. See you tomorrow on the set.’
On Saturday afternoon, Polly turned up at the TV studios for the dress rehearsal, and changed into her dress. She knew that Liam would be in a tailcoat, but even so she wasn’t prepared for how gorgeous he looked.
And getting the shivers when she saw him was utterly ridiculous. He’d made it very clear that he wasn’t interested in her beyond teaching her to dance for the competition. He wasn’t interested in a relationship, full stop. He was focused on getting his career back. And she was behaving like a newly hatched chick, trying to bond with the first person she saw.
Be professional, she told herself, and held her head high as she walked over to him.
