If The Ring Fits...: Ballroom to Bride and Groom / A Bride for the Maverick Millionaire / Promoted: Secretary to Bride!. Kate Hardy
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he, too, was feeling guilty and mixed-up as well as longing for a deeper intimacy?
Or was she just fooling herself?
He seemed to make an effort to pull himself together. ‘I’ll count you in for two bars. One, two, three; one, two three; now.’
And she stumbled.
It didn’t help when he switched to saying, ‘Left, right, together; right, left, together,’ because all of a sudden she couldn’t tell her left from her right again. And putting it all in time to the music was next to impossible.
‘This is ridiculous—why can’t I do it?’ she asked when he went to change the music. ‘Am I so stupid that I can’t count to three?’
‘No. With the foxtrot, you know you start with your right leg and it’s always right, left, right, left. With the waltz, you have to concentrate a little bit more and remember which leg you moved back last time,’ he said. ‘But you managed to get the foxtrot and the cha cha cha, so have faith in yourself. You’ll get this one, too.’
She tripped over him yet again. ‘Sorry.’
‘Don’t apologise. And, no, before you ask, you haven’t hurt my back. Let’s keep going. You’ll get there.’
At the end of the session, she was disappointed that he didn’t suggest a late breakfast together; but it was probably best that they didn’t spend time together outside the studio until she’d managed to squash these ridiculous feelings about Liam. He’d kept today strictly to teaching: which told her everything she needed to know. He didn’t want to take things any further between them. And she wasn’t giving him the chance to reject her. She still had her pride.
On Monday, Amanda came in to the studio, wagging a finger at them. ‘Well, you two, you’ve certainly got everyone talking about you. All the boards are speculating about whether Pretty Polly and Luscious Liam are an item.’ She paused, raising an eyebrow as she looked at them both. ‘Are you?’
‘No, we’re not,’ Liam said.
‘You kissed each other,’ Amanda pointed out. ‘On national television.’
‘I was thrilled to bits at getting through to the next round, that was all,’ Polly protested. ‘I kissed my driving examiner when I passed my test. And I kissed the guy who taught me to ride a unicycle. I kiss Mike, Danny and Charlie all the time.’ If Polly was honest with herself though she knew that this kiss with Liam had been different.
‘That’s true. I saw you with them last week. Oh, and please tell them thank you for the photos. The kids were thrilled.’ Amanda looked worried. ‘Seriously, though, I’ve had a few calls from the press. What do I say? Because I’ve tried “no comment” and they just keep asking.’
‘Tell them I got overexcited and I kiss everyone,’ Polly said. ‘It didn’t mean anything.’
Though she couldn’t look Liam in the eye as she said it. She didn’t want him to guess what she was starting to feel about him.
Polly really wasn’t getting the hang of the waltz. By Wednesday morning, Liam was seriously worried. He’d tried doing a natural turn with her, and she’d stumbled over the steps. He knew that people often found one way easier than the other, so he’d tried the reverse turn with her instead—and that hadn’t worked any better.
This was even worse than the foxtrot. If they didn’t do the waltz the way the audience expected, all spins and twirls and glamour, the public wouldn’t vote for Polly.
He switched off the music. ‘We’re struggling with this.’
‘More than struggling. I really can’t do this.’ Polly lifted her chin. ‘Look, I’ve been thinking about it. There’s only one thing I can do now.’
‘What’s that?’
‘I’m pulling out of the competition.’
‘What?’ Liam stared at her in disbelief. She couldn’t be serious.
‘I’m pulling out of the competition,’ she repeated. ‘You need to get the Broadway producers to notice you. If I mess things up for you on Saturday night and we’re eliminated, they’re going to blame you—it’s because you’re not good enough at teaching me and your choreography’s too hard, so you’ll make a mess of working with their cast.’
‘I’m a perfectly adequate teach—’ Liam began.
She held up a hand. ‘Let me finish. In their eyes, we’ll be eliminated because you’re not good enough at teaching me or leading me, or you’re trying to get me to do something too difficult. Whereas we know the truth—I’m just hopeless at this and I’m never, ever going to get it. We’ve been training for half a week now, and I can barely do the basic step, let alone the twirly bits. I hate coming here right now, because I feel so stupid and useless. I’m never going to be able to follow a routine. If I pull out of the competition, they’ll know we didn’t make the final because of me, not because of you.’
‘That,’ Liam said, ‘is the most screwed-up logic I’ve ever heard. The reason you’re not getting the waltz, Polly, is because you’re panicking instead of concentrating on what you’re doing.’
‘I am concentrating. I just can’t do it. Like my dad said, I’m a fairy elephant, not a fairy ballerina.’
Liam felt his temper bubble, and he wasn’t sure what made him angriest. Polly’s lack of self-belief—which he was beginning to understand, given what she’d just let slip; her ridiculous idea of pulling out of the competition; or the fact that he was calling her on her lack of concentration and knew he was being a total hypocrite because he was having problems concentrating, too. Every time she was in a ballroom hold with him, he thought back to Saturday night and that kiss. A kiss that had blown his mind because he’d never felt something so sharp and intense before, even with Bianca. A kiss that had made him put all his barriers back up because Polly was a real danger to his equilibrium.
‘Your father was talking rubbish,’ he said. ‘And you are not pulling out of the competition. You’re going to concentrate, Polly Anna Adams, harder than you’ve ever concentrated in your entire life, and you are going to learn the waltz. Properly.’
‘Are you listening to a single word I’m saying?’ Polly’s face flushed with temper. ‘I can’t do this, Liam. I’ve tried and I’ve tried and I’ve tried, and I just can’t do it. I’m never going to be able to do it. I hate this stupid dance. I don’t want the judges to think it’s your fault when it’s all mine. So I’m pulling out of the competition.’
‘Don’t be so ridiculous,’ Liam said.
She glared at him. ‘Have you got a better idea?’
He glared back at her. ‘Yes. We’re getting out of here.’
She gave him a slow handclap. ‘At last the man listens and realises I’m right.’
‘You are not right. And we’re staying in the competition. We’re just getting out of the studio.’
‘If you think taking me out to lunch is going to change my mind—’ Polly began.
‘I’m not taking you out to lunch. You’re going back to your flat to pack an overnight bag and collect your passport,’ Liam said.
She frowned. ‘What? Why?’
‘My better idea. We’re going to dance somewhere else.’
She scowled. ‘Don’t tell me you’re thinking tree-trunks. Though maybe that would work. I’ll break my ankle so I can’t dance on Saturday.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous. We’re not dancing on a tree-trunk.’ Though he did need to get a couple of things organised. Like now. ‘You do have a passport?’
‘Yes, but what’s that got to do with dancing?’