Ballroom to Bride and Groom. Kate Hardy
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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.
And it made her cross with herself. She was being pathetic and needy, on the rebound and desperate for some affection from anyone who was in the slightest bit kind to her—and Liam hadn’t exactly been kind. He hadn’t even so much as smiled at her.
‘I’ve found the vee,’ she said.
‘Now lift your third and index fingers up as if they’re a butterfly’s wings,’ he said.
She was all too aware of the narrow band of white on her left ring finger, but he made no comment.
‘Now, your right hand.’ He moved his left arm, pivoting from the elbow, so that his palm was facing her and his thumb was lifted. ‘Sometimes you see people dancing with their fingers laced together. It doesn’t work in ballroom, because when you want to do a turn you’ll end up in a tangle if your fingers are linked. So instead you rest your fingers over mine, and curve your thumb round mine, so you can turn your hand in mine when you need to.’ He talked her through the hold.
He really hadn’t been prepared for the touch of her skin against his. How it would make him feel. That it would make him want to slip out of the ballroom hold and tangle his fingers properly with hers.
This was supposed to be work. He really shouldn’t be letting himself get so distracted by her. Attracted by her.
Annoyance at his reaction to her made him sharp. ‘And that’s it.’
Except now she had to move her feet. Which might be a problem.
‘OK. Now the feet.’ He dropped her hands. ‘One small step back with your right foot.’ He blew out a breath as she took a step back with her left foot. ‘Your right foot, Polly.’
‘Is it any wonder I can’t tell my right from my left, when you’re glaring at me like that?’ She shook her head. ‘I thought you’d be different.’
He frowned. ‘How do you mean?’
‘Maybe I’ve been spoiled, because the boys on Monday Mash-up are the same offscreen as they are onscreen. But you’re not. I used to watch Ballroom Glitz and you were nice. Supportive.’
Liam lifted his chin. ‘I am being supportive.’
‘Right,’ she scoffed. ‘You haven’t said a single encouraging word to me.’
‘What do you want me to do? Tell you how marvellous you are while you’re doing something wrong? That’s not going to help you improve, is it?’
‘No, but it wouldn’t kill you to smile.’
‘Says the woman who smiles all the time and pretends everything’s perfect.’
It wasn’t pretend. If she tried hard enough, it became real. ‘Haven’t you ever heard the saying, “smile and the world smiles with you”?’
‘It’s fake.’
‘Fake it until you make it,’ Polly said. ‘Don’t knock it. It works.’
He rolled his eyes. ‘I need you to concentrate on learning these steps. I assume you actually want to stay in the competition?’
‘I can’t afford not to,’ she admitted.
‘Then concentrate, Polly. Right foot back.’
She narrowed her eyes at him. ‘The papers said you were planning