Читать книгу If The Ring Fits...: Ballroom to Bride and Groom / A Bride for the Maverick Millionaire / Promoted: Secretary to Bride! - Kate Hardy - Страница 9

LIAM thought about ignoring the phone later that evening, but the caller display showed that it was his PA. He’d better answer, in case she needed tomorrow off or something. ‘Yes, Mand. What can I do for you?’

‘Are you online?’ Amanda asked.

‘Yes. Why?’

‘There’s something I think you need to see. I’m not spreading gossip,’ Amanda added swiftly. ‘Just … look, Polly Anna’s nice. My kids love her on Monday Mash-up. She’s not the sort who whines about breaking a nail or flounces about in a huff—she just gets on with things and does her job with a smile, whatever they throw at her. And, believe you me, they throw some really tough stuff at her.’

‘I’d already worked that one out for myself, Mand,’ Liam said.

‘Go easy on her, that’s all. She’s having a hard time right now. I mean, I know you’ve had a hard time, too, thanks to the accident and Bianca, but—’

‘I have to teach Polly to dance,’ Liam cut in, not wanting to discuss his ex-wife. ‘And you saw the video clips.’ Polly definitely wasn’t afraid of working hard, but her coordination was an issue that could hold them back on the show.

‘She’s a sweetie, Liam.’

Hmm. If his PA was batting Polly’s corner like this, there was a fair chance that a lot of the women who watched Ballroom Glitz would be supporting Polly, too. For similar reasons. ‘OK.’

‘I’ve emailed you the link. Read the story, but don’t tell her you know about it.’ Amanda blew out a breath. ‘I could punch that Harry, I really could.’

Harry? Who was Harry? ‘Right. I’ll see you in the morning,’ Liam said. ‘Polly’s going to be in the studio with me from eight.’

‘OK. It’ll be nice to meet her. See you tomorrow.’

Liam flicked into his email program, followed the link Amanda had sent him to a story on Celebrity Life magazine, and read the gossip-page story in silence.

Now he knew why Polly had cut her hair short. And why she had that super-bright smile. And why she’d flinched when he’d mentioned dancing at a wedding: because her engagement to Harry, the producer of her show, had just been broken. Very, very publicly.

Thanks to Bianca, he knew what it felt like to be dumped in the full glare of the public eye. Celebrity Life had scooped Bianca’s plans before she could tell him that she was leaving him for someone else—a man who could still dance and help her win a World Championship trophy, at the point when everyone had thought that Liam’s career was over.

And he’d hated every single one of the pitying smiles that people had given him afterwards. Every single one of the platitudes mouthed at him. They hadn’t had a clue how he’d felt. How hurt and angry and resentful. And how relieved, in a weird way: because being brave for Bianca’s sake and pretending that he felt just fine had become so, so wearing.

He’d bet it was just the same for Polly. A mixture of misery and anger and all kinds of unwelcome emotions. So, no, he wouldn’t tell her that he knew about the break-up. He’d spare her the pity party.

But he wasn’t going to go easy on her, either. That wouldn’t be doing her any favours; she needed to work hard if she was going to stay in the competition. And staying in the competition, he thought, might just be better for her confidence and her self-esteem than anything else right now.

Polly was outside the dance studio at five to eight the next morning. When she rang the intercom, Liam buzzed her in.

‘So, did you like any of the songs I sent you?’

‘Yes. But they’re a bit—well, old-fashioned. The kind of thing my grandparents would listen to.’

‘You’d be surprised at how popular they are among people in their twenties. They’re easy to dance to.’ He shrugged. ‘I have a friend who’s a wedding DJ and he sends people to me to choreograph their first dance. Sometimes they have a song in mind; if they don’t, that’s the list I usually send them.’

Their first dance. Polly couldn’t help flinching. She could see that Liam noticed, but was grateful that he didn’t ask why. Though she had a nasty feeling that someone must’ve told him. Or maybe he’d seen the story in one of the weekend papers. Not that she’d been able to face looking through them herself, but she was pretty sure they would’ve run the story about When Harry Dumped Polly. Especially as she was in something as high-profile as Ballroom Glitz.

She only hoped that the interviewer in Step by Step, the Thursday evening programme that followed the couples and their training, wouldn’t ask her about it. Because she really, really didn’t want to talk about Harry and Grace.

‘Right. Time for training. Show me the steps you learned yesterday.’

She took a pair of shoes from her bag and showed them to him. ‘Are these OK?’

‘As long as they’re comfortable, yes.’ He gave her a guarded look. ‘If you’ve forgotten the steps, just say. Don’t waste time.’

‘I haven’t forgotten,’ she said, giving him another glower as she changed her shoes. ‘There’s no need to be snippy with me.’

He said nothing, just raised an eyebrow.

‘Right leg back, left leg back, step right to the side, bring both feet together,’ she said, talking herself through the sequence. ‘Back, back, side, close. Slow, slow, quick-quick.’

‘Can you remember the hold?’

‘I might be a novice dancer,’ she said crisply, ‘but credit me with a little intelligence. If I can’t remember something, I’ll ask you.’

He inclined his head but didn’t smile or try to mollify her. ‘The hold?’

‘Left hand, the vee and the butterfly fingers,’ she said, doing it. ‘Right hand, up and with my fingers over yours and my thumb round yours.’

‘Good.’ He’d clearly already cued up the music, and this time used a remote control to switch it on. ‘Let’s go.’

Her skin tingled where it touched his, flustering her into missing a couple of steps. Liam gave her a speaking look.

‘Sorry,’ she mumbled.

‘Let’s start again.’

This time, something seemed to click; she was still incredibly aware of his body, his closeness, but this time it meant that her movements dovetailed with his. Connected. Going round the dance floor seemed entirely natural. By the time the music stopped, she felt as if she’d actually achieved something. And she loved that feeling.

‘I’ll teach you the next step after coffee,’ Liam said.

‘Not one of the spinning-round steps?’ she asked. Right now she couldn’t ever see herself being able to manage that.

‘Not today. Though you will be doing that pretty soon. And you’re talking either about a spot turn or a pivot.’

Polly placed her palm horizontally and whooshed it just above her head. Just so he’d know she didn’t have a clue what he was talking about.

‘Message received and understood,’ he said.

And then he smiled.

There was a funny feeling in the pit of Polly’s stomach. Not the same feeling she’d had when Harry smiled at her, all warm and safe; this wasn’t safe at all. It was something dangerous. Something she couldn’t cope with.

She fell back on her standby—a super-bright smile—and followed him into the kitchen. This time he took three mugs from the cupboard.

‘Three mugs?’ she asked.

‘One’s for Amanda,’ he explained. ‘My PA. She keeps things running for me. Well, part time. She works for me between the school runs.’

As if on cue, a woman with wild, curly red hair walked in. ‘He’s a slave-driver. My advice would be, don’t let him get away with a thing.’ She smiled at Polly. ‘It’s great to meet you, Polly Anna. I’m Amanda. My kids love you on Monday Mash-up, so we’d be voting for you even if you weren’t dancing with Liam.’

Polly’s eyes were stinging, and she blinked back the tears. She wasn’t going to start crying just because someone was being kind to her. OK, so she’d miss the team on Monday Mash-up—she’d miss them horribly, because Danny, Mike and Charlie had become good friends over the last couple of years—but life had to go on.

Just as long as Harry didn’t put Grace in Polly’s place on the show, as well as her place in his life.

She lifted her chin, straightened her back and gave Amanda a full megawatt smile. ‘Thank you.’

‘Pleasure.’ Amanda waved a packet of chocolate biscuits at Liam. ‘Supplies. And I brought more proper coffee, because I bet you forgot.’ She smiled at Polly. ‘I’ll let you into a secret. Liam has a horribly sweet tooth. If he starts being bossy, just give him cake. Then he’ll be nice to you.’

This time, Polly’s smile was genuine.

‘I like Amanda,’ she said when Liam led her back into the dance studio.

‘So do I.’ He paused. ‘And I’m not bossy.’

‘You are.’

‘No, I’m focused,’ he corrected. ‘Which is how I need you to be, right now, because I’m going to teach you the balance step.’

‘Balance step,’ she repeated. How ironic, for someone as clumsy as her. She was only surprised that nobody had suggested she tried tightrope-walking on the ‘Challenge Polly Anna’ slot. Or maybe they had, and Harry had nixed it because he hadn’t wanted her to fall off and break her neck or something. ‘OK. I’m listening.’

‘Instead of moving two steps forward or back, we stay where we are and shift our weight—just a gentle side-to-side rock, really—and then we do the side-close.’ He talked her through it.

Polly just couldn’t get the hang of it and kept swaying the wrong way. Which made things worse, because then she ended up even closer to Liam, physically. Every time she touched him, even through layers of clothes, it made her feel as if the air were crackling round her.

Which was ridiculous.

She barely knew the man. And he wasn’t sweet and gentle, the way Harry was. He was driven and intense. Scary. And it threw her when he switched between being Mr Nice for the cameras and Mr Snippy, who only just managed to suppress his impatience with her inability to pick up the steps. Which was the real Liam?

‘You’re panicking,’ Liam said.

Yeah. He could say that again.

‘OK. Back to basics. This is exactly the same as we did before, except your feet don’t move for the first two steps—you just shift your weight as if you were taking a step to the side and then back again. Right, left, right, close.’

It took her a while, but finally she got the hang of it. And then, without even the hint of a break, he took her through the promenade step. ‘We’re both going to turn to face the same way, point our arms out together, and step forward. Remember you always move your right foot first, then your left.’ He demonstrated. ‘Then we turn to face each other again, step right to the side, and close with your left foot.’

Tricky. She had to think about which was her left and which was her right. And she got it wrong half the time.

He sighed. ‘Am I going to have to tie ribbons to your wrists, or something? Red for left and white for right?’

No way in hell was he getting close to her wrists. ‘There’s no point. I’d only get it mixed up with red for right and left for lemon,’ she said sweetly.

He muttered something that sounded like, ‘Give me strength.’

But eventually Polly got the hang of it. And when she stopped concentrating so hard, she was surprised to discover that she was actually having fun. She loved the music he was playing—an old Van Morrison track with a strong beat that even she could hear clearly—and she was finally moving around the floor with him, so easily that her worries about tripping over him faded into the background.

‘I love this,’ she said, smiling. ‘I totally get why you do this for a living.’ She hummed along to the song.

When Liam realised that she’d changed the lyrics to talk through what she was doing—not to guide herself, but almost celebrating the steps—he couldn’t help smiling back. ‘Yes. It’s everything. The music, the steps, how it all blends together and your body’s in tune with the whole lot.’

She looked up at him, her brown eyes sparkling with pleasure. At that moment, Liam felt connected with her. Really connected. The beat of the music was thrumming through his body, and he knew it was the same for her.

It would be oh, so easy to dip his head, find out if that lush mouth was as soft and sweet as he suspected …

And he’d really need his head examined. This was a complication he didn’t want or need. Yes, they could keep dancing, but he needed some space. Now. He stopped. ‘OK. That’s us done for today. See you tomorrow.’

She blinked for a moment, as if she’d lost herself in the dance, then gave him one of her super-bright smiles, making him feel obscurely guilty. ‘See you tomorrow,’ she echoed.

The next morning, Polly arrived at the studio with a bag of Danish pastries. ‘There’s a nice bakery round the corner from my flat, and as you’re providing the coffee I thought this could be my contribution. I’ll leave a note in the kitchen so Amanda knows to help herself, too.’ She gave him an arch look. ‘Plus the sugar might sweeten your mood so you don’t get stroppy with me this morning.’

‘Don’t push it. We’re doing corners this morning. I’ll have to be stroppy with you.’

But she did at least get a smile out of him. Score one to Polly Anna, she thought.

Except that smile did things to her. If it weren’t so ridiculous, she’d be tempted to think that this was the kaboom Harry had described. Her stomach was all fluttery, her skin felt too tight and her temperature was definitely a couple of degrees above normal. Worse still, it made her more aware of him physically. Of how small the gap was between their bodies when they danced. Of how easy it would be to close that gap. Of what it would be like to be skin to skin with him.

And the whole thing sent her into flat spin. It had taken her months to fall for Harry, and even then she hadn’t felt a physical reaction towards him like this. How could she feel this sort of thing about Liam, when she barely knew him?

She really had to get this under control. He was her dancing partner for the show. No way could she let him become anything more than that. Her heart had already been stomped on; and she had no intention of letting anyone near her until she’d got some good, solid defences in place. Defences that would mean nobody could hurt her again, the way that Harry had.