Читать книгу If The Ring Fits... - Kate Hardy, Jennie Adams - Страница 13

POLLY’S heart was thudding when she pressed the intercom to Liam’s studio the next morning. She’d slept badly again, brooding over those near-kisses and the way he’d made her feel when he’d held her close.

Even though her head told her she’d done the right thing, that Liam was as much of an emotional mess as she was and they’d be crazy to act on the attraction between them, her heart was still asking, ‘what if’?

What if she’d been braver?

What if she hadn’t backed away?

What if he’d kissed her?

She shook herself. They had a job to do. This week, she couldn’t afford to let him down. For both their sakes, she had to get it right.

Her heartbeat was still racing when she’d climbed the two flights of stairs to the studio. Physical exercise, she told herself, knowing that she was lying: she was nervous. How was Liam going to react to her? Would he pretend that nothing had happened?

When she opened the door, he looked as nervous as she felt. Worrying that she’d push him past his limits? Or worrying that she was going to bail out on him and his career was going to come crashing down again?

‘Hi,’ she said.

‘Did you sleep well?’ he asked.

So that was how he was playing it. Being nice, rather than snippy—but putting up another barrier. A different one. A polite one.

Well, she could do that, too.

‘Yes,’ she fibbed. ‘Did you?’

‘Yes.’

She’d bet that was just as much of a fib as hers. ‘What am I learning today?’ she asked, giving him her brightest smile.

He didn’t call her on it. And again she wasn’t sure if that was disappointment or relief she glimpsed briefly in his eyes.

‘The cha cha cha. This is the week you learn that dancing can be fun.’ He handed her a mug of coffee. ‘Sit down and drink this while I show you the basic step.’

Polly was happy to sit cross-legged on the floor and watch him while she sipped her coffee.

‘Remember how I taught you to shift the weight in the balance step when we did the foxtrot? It’s the same thing, just this time it’s forward and back. Rock, rock.’ He demonstrated. ‘And then we do a quick side-close-side. One, two, one-and-two.’

Amazingly, his body seemed to just move from the hips; his upper body was perfectly straight and still. How did he do that? ‘You have very good posture,’ she said. ‘Snake hips.’ And then she blushed. Would he take it the wrong way? Would it make him think of last night, the way they’d been so close?

He stayed in teaching mode. ‘The key to this dance is the hip action. You need to try to keep your legs straight.’

‘And that’s it for the basic step?’

‘You do a set to one side, then a set back again—and, once you’ve got that going, you can add some bits onto it to make it interesting.’

Polly put her mug down carefully, relieved that she didn’t spill coffee all over his expensive floor. ‘So I guess it’s my turn to do this now?’

‘Yup. We’re going to do this one side by side until you get the basic step—you can see what I’m doing in the mirror and you do exactly the same as I do,’ Liam said. ‘We’re going to do it really slowly at first.’

He talked her through a set to the left and a set to the right, then gave her a thoughtful look. ‘OK, but there’s one thing I need to pick you up on. When you rock back, don’t go back on your heel and lift your toes—the judges will mark you down for that. If it makes it a little easier for you, step it out, but just remember to keep your toes on the floor.’

‘Right.’

‘Let’s keep going.’ He continued talking her through the basic step, and gradually their movements sped up.

Then he took her hand and spun her round to face him. ‘Well done. You’ve got the hang of the basic step. Now we’ll do it face to face. The hold’s a little bit looser than the foxtrot, but I’ll explain why when I teach you some of the later steps.’

He wasn’t holding her as close as he had for the foxtrot but, even so, Polly was very aware of the feel of his fingers against hers. Which was ridiculous. Her body shouldn’t be so aware of him as this. And she shouldn’t be wanting to press against him.

‘Music, first.’

It was the best thing he could’ve done, because she relaxed when she recognised the old Abba song. ‘I had no idea this was a cha cha cha. Though there’s something different about it.’

‘It’s a remix. Especially for dance teachers.’

The beat was infectious, and to her surprise she found it much easier than the foxtrot. This didn’t feel like hard work and counting. He was right: this was fun.

They took a break and went out for a late breakfast again.

‘You’re enjoying this one, aren’t you?’ Liam asked.

She nodded. ‘It’s a lot easier than the foxtrot.’

‘You’ll find that you’ll really click with a couple of the dances, and you’ll really not enjoy others.’

‘Any clues as to which?’

He shook his head. ‘It varies from person to person—and you might think before you start learning a dance that because you enjoy watching other people dancing it, you’ll enjoy dancing it yourself, but then you’ll discover it doesn’t do anything for you.’

‘Whereas something you might not bother watching turns out to be a lot more fun when you’re actually doing it?’ she guessed.

‘Absolutely.’

Talking about dance had made him relax with her again. Wanting to keep that going, she asked, ‘What’s your favourite dance?’

‘The rumba,’ he said.

‘Why?’

His eyes glittered. ‘Because it’s so sensual.’

Oh, the pictures that put in her head. She could feel the blush heating her entire body. If the rumba was more sensual than the way he’d danced with her last night, heaven help her. She’d go up in flames.

‘And I have a soft spot for the cha cha cha. Come on, let’s get back to it. I want to teach you how to do a New York. You tend to do it at the end of chassé—that’s the “cha cha cha” step—and you’ll know exactly when we’re going to do this, because I’ll let go of your right hand when we’re moving to the right and place my left hand under yours.’

Back at the studio, he talked her through the move, doing everything at a slow walking pace.

‘It’s a bit like the promenade step,’ she said, ‘with our feet.’

‘A bit,’ he said, ‘except you move your arm out to the side.’ He talked her through the hand positions, then put the music on and practised the new step with her.

To her surprise, she found it easy. Compared to the effort she’d put into the foxtrot and the way she’d felt like a failure because she couldn’t grasp it, this was like a dream. Something she hadn’t believed possible.

‘Ready to add another step?’ he asked.

‘Already?’

‘Already,’ he confirmed. ‘This one’s fun. It’s called a spot turn, because you turn on the spot—and it’s also why you need to keep your hand very loose in mine, otherwise you’ll twist your arm.’

It took a little while for Polly to do it right but, when she finally managed to keep her feet still and spin round, it felt amazing. ‘I can’t believe it was so easy! Why was I having trouble with it?’

‘Because you’re still learning.’ But he was smiling, and warmth spread through her. A genuine smile from Liam could send her temperature rocketing.

‘It’s really clicked, hasn’t it?’ he asked.

‘How do you know?’

‘Your eyes are shining.’

And how tempted Liam was to dip his head and kiss her. Not on the cheek, the way he did at the end of a lesson, but properly. The way he’d wanted to kiss her last night, when Polly had looked up at him with those huge eyes and parted lips. This was crazy. Neither of them was in the right place for a relationship, even for a fling. And he didn’t want to take any risks, let someone that close to him again. This had to stop. Right now.

He held himself in check—just—and forced himself to concentrate on teaching her the steps instead of giving in to the temptation to pull her close and to hell with the dancing.

The rest of the lesson flew by. ‘See you in the morning, then. Have a nice afternoon.’ He waited until she’d gone before switching on the music system again and going through the latest routine he’d been working out for the professional dancers on the show.

But for once he found it hard to concentrate on the dancing. He kept thinking of Polly, the sweetness of her smile and the way her eyes had shone as she’d felt the magic of the dance. The way she’d been last night, when she’d finally relaxed with him and given herself over to the music. And he knew it could be oh, so good between them …

‘You,’ he told himself crossly, ‘need your head examined. Focus.’

The next morning, Liam was teaching Polly a more complicated turn when Amanda came in to the studio. ‘Liam, I know you never look at the show’s message boards, and he’s probably told you to ignore them, Polly, but I think you both really need to see this.’

‘See what?’ Polly asked.

Amanda produced a print-out with a flourish. ‘This,’ she said, ‘is the poll—no pun intended, Pol—showing who’s the most popular couple on the show. Have a look.’

The chart showed that Polly and Liam were top, by a long way.

‘Wow. I never expected that—that’s really …’ Polly shook her head, unable to think of the right word. ‘Well, it’s humbling. Especially as we came last on the judges’ scoresheets.’

‘They really didn’t like Tiki’s reaction,’ Amanda said. ‘I’ve read all the threads. Everyone’s backing you, Polly. Go for it.’

‘And this is the dance to do it,’ Liam said softly when Amanda left the studio again. ‘Tomorrow, we’ll start the routine. But I’m going to check the song with you first.’

He flicked a switch on his music system and an up-tempo song began; Polly recognised it as ‘Sway’.

‘I know that song. I’ve heard it on a film soundtrack.’

‘And you’re OK with it?’

‘I love it.’ She listened for a bit, then started cha-cha-chaing to the music.

He raised an eyebrow. ‘And you started dead in the right place. Good. I think this is definitely your dance, Pol.’

‘Well, maestro—or whatever you’re meant to call a dancer—let’s go for it.’

Polly found herself humming the song all the way home. And even having to deal with more admin from the cancelled wedding didn’t take the shine off her mood. She was still smiling the next morning, and this time she seemed to pick up the routine much more easily, not minding that Liam was bringing in more complicated underarm turns and mixing up dancing in hold with dancing side by side.

‘You’re doing well,’ he said, and the unexpected praise made her feel hot all over.

‘But?’ She knew there would be a but.

He spread his hands. ‘But I need to get you used to dancing the cha cha cha in something other than trousers. I’ll come with you to the wardrobe department tomorrow, because they’ll need to match my outfit to your dress.’ He looked thoughtful. ‘Something short and flirty, I think.’

That was bound to mean short sleeves. Panic flooded through her. ‘Can’t I have something floaty, like last week?’

‘You can’t do a Latin dance in a ballroom costume,’ Liam said. ‘And if Jane the comedienne can wear a short skirt, given that she’s a fair bit, um, curvier than you, then you’ll be fine.’ He patted her shoulder. ‘People will look at your feet and your smile, I promise.’

Obviously he thought she was panicking about her thighs. ‘I’m not worried about my legs,’ she said.

‘Then what’s wrong?’

She couldn’t bring herself to tell him. The words stuck in her throat. The easy way out would be to show him the scars, but she just couldn’t do that. ‘I don’t mind a short dress, but I’m used to long sleeves.’

‘Not for a cha cha cha.’

‘I’m superstitious,’ she said.

His expression told her that, given she’d picked a green dress last time, he didn’t believe a word of it. But, to her relief, he didn’t push her on the subject.

On Wednesday morning, their practice went well and Polly’s smile was genuine. But her smile faded when they went to the wardrobe department and she realised that none of the costumes on offer had long sleeves.

‘I really need long sleeves,’ she said to Rhoda, biting her lip. ‘Please.’

‘There aren’t any—not with the cha cha cha dresses.’

Polly thought back to costumes she’d seen on the show in previous years. ‘What about something with cuffs?’

‘Ah—now, cuffs we can do,’ Rhoda said.

The relief made Polly’s knees go weak. Rhoda came back with a blue sequinned dress, the same dark blue as Liam’s eyes; it had a fringed short skirt, a silver belt, and matching silver cuffs that Polly could see immediately would be deep enough to hide her scars. ‘Those silver shoes you had for the foxtrot—they’ll work for this, too,’ Rhoda said.

‘Thank you. That’s absolutely brilliant.’

‘My pleasure, love.’ Though Rhoda looked concerned, and Polly had the nasty feeling she was going to be the centre of backstage … not gossip, exactly, but conversation.

She’d just have to hope that they’d find a more interesting topic.

Liam’s outfit consisted of dark trousers, and a sheer dark blue shirt, shot through with silver and navy blue sequins.

‘Flashy,’ she teased.

But the shirt also brought out the beautiful colour of his eyes; it really suited him. And she loved the swishy skirt of her dress.

‘You know I’m going to ask—’ Liam began when they’d left the studio.

‘No.’ In panic, she pressed the tip of her finger over his mouth. And then she wished she hadn’t. His lips were warm. Soft. And the contact with her skin made her tingle all over.

‘Please don’t. It’s something I don’t want to talk about, OK?’ Her voice was shaky, and not just because of dredging up her past. Touching Liam made her knees go weak.

‘Is it something that’s going to affect your dancing?’

‘No.’ Not unless she had to wear short sleeves. ‘If you promise not to ask me, I’ll cook you a pizza for dinner tonight.’ The second she stopped speaking, she panicked again. Now he’d think she was asking him out on a date. And she wasn’t—was she?

‘That is, to say thanks for how much you’ve taught me this week,’ she added swiftly.

‘It’s my job,’ he reminded her.

‘And good work gets a bonus. In this case, pizza.’

‘Home made?’ he asked.

‘Well—no. But I make a mean brownie.’

‘Cake.’ His eyes glittered. ‘Done. What time?’

‘Seven?’

‘Great. See you then.’

Liam rang the doorbell at seven precisely; a few seconds later, Polly opened the door and her eyes widened as he handed her a bunch of bright pink gerbera.

‘How lovely.’ She beamed at him. ‘Though you didn’t have to do that.’

‘Hostess gift,’ he said. Just in case she thought there were strings attached.

‘Thank you. Come in, and I’ll put these in water.’

She rummaged through a cupboard in her kitchen. ‘No vase. Stupid. I’ll get one tomorrow.’ She found a measuring jug, filled it with water and put the flowers in it.

Her smile had turned super-bright again, and guilt flooded through him. ‘Sorry. I wouldn’t have brought them if I’d known they’d upset you.’

‘No, I love them. But they’re the first flowers since …’ Her voice tailed off.

He filled in the gap. Since her wedding-that-wasn’t. ‘I used to buy flowers for Bianca every Friday,’ he said, and could’ve kicked himself. Why was he telling her that and making it worse?

‘Harry wasn’t one for flowers. I used to buy them for myself. Ones like this, that make everything look bright and happy. I must’ve left my vases at his place. Not that I want them back now.’ She flapped a dismissive hand. ‘I knew you’d be dead on time. The pizza will be here in ten minutes. Let me get you a drink. Wine?’

He handed her a bottle. ‘My contribution. It should still be chilled.’

‘Thank you.’ She poured them both a glass. ‘Do you want the grand tour? It’ll take all of two minutes.’

She was talking way too much and way too fast, Liam thought. Nervous. Yeah. So was he. Which he really hadn’t expected, because he was fine when he was teaching her. But being here, in her space—that shifted the balance. Changed things. ‘The grand tour will be great.’

‘Obviously this is the kitchen,’ she said. ‘Bathroom. My room.’ He noticed that she kept that particular door closed. ‘Living room.’

There were photographs and knick-knacks on every windowsill and shelf, along with plenty of books and films. Too busy for his taste, though it was spotlessly clean.

She’d clearly noticed him scanning the room. ‘You think it’s cluttered, don’t you?’

‘I’d put everything in cupboards,’ he admitted. ‘But each to their own.’

He followed her back to the kitchen, and looked at the photographs on her fridge. ‘I assume these are the Monday Mash-up boys?’

‘Yes. And this is Fliss, my very best friend, and Shelley and Carrie. They’re the chick-flick chicks—their husbands all hate the kind of girly films we love, so we go without them and eat a ton of ice cream afterwards.’

There were plenty of photos of her with friends, he noticed, but not with anyone who looked enough like her to be a sibling or cousin, and none of her with anyone older. She hadn’t mentioned her family at all.

And there was the fact that she insisted on wearing long sleeves. Had there been some terrible car accident or something where she’d lost her family, and maybe she had scars on her arms from the accident that reminded her of what she’d lost? He hadn’t seen any scars today, but then again the cuffs that went with her dress were quite deep.

But she’d asked him specifically to steer clear of the subject. He couldn’t push her any further. Not just now.

The pizza arrived; he cut it into slices while she got the salad out of the fridge. Funny how easy it was to be with her, he thought.

‘Have you put that proposal together yet?’ he asked when they were both sitting at her tiny kitchen table.

‘Nearly. Have you heard anything from any producers?’

‘I’m waiting for a few call backs.’ He stopped abruptly.

She seemed to guess why, immediately. ‘I’m not going to leak anything, Liam. I wouldn’t want to ruin any potential deals for you.’

‘No, of course not. Sorry. I guess I’m a bit touchy about it.’

‘Building your career up again from nothing, when you’re used to being at the top—that’s not easy. Especially when you know the whole world’s watching you.’

He wasn’t sure whether she was talking about him or her. Both, maybe. And that knowledge made him admit, ‘I’m not dealing too well with that. I know I should be grateful for having a second chance, but at the same time I really resent having to start all over again, as if everything I achieved before just doesn’t count.’

‘People are rooting for you, Liam. They want you back on top again.’

‘Maybe. But the media’s fickle. One day you’re a darling, the next you’re a scapegoat.’ He shrugged. ‘There are a few people out there who’d like to see me fail.’

‘You won’t fail.’

The sincerity on her face touched him. She really did believe in him. Probably more than he believed in himself.

‘It’s just a shame you’ve been paired with the contestant who can’t dance.’

He shook his head. ‘You can dance, Polly.’

‘Liam, don’t flannel me. I know I’m hopeless. I wanted ballet lessons when I was little, and my dad wouldn’t let me. He said there was no point because I was too clumsy.’

He could see the hurt flicker in her eyes. She hid it quickly, but her smile went a touch brighter. ‘I promise I’ll try my hardest not to let you down, Liam.’

‘Maybe the foxtrot didn’t suit you. You’re doing a lot better with the cha cha cha.’

She gave him a wry smile. ‘I wasn’t fishing for a compliment.’

‘I know. You wouldn’t have got one if you had been.’ He raised an eyebrow. ‘Nobody puts Polly in a corner.’

This time, she laughed. ‘Yeah, yeah.’

It was easy to relax with Polly. Her warmth and sweetness made him feel different, tempting him to let his barriers down and let himself fall for her. Yet at the same time he knew she was vulnerable. She might be feeling the same way as he was right now, but she was the kind who wanted a settled forever, and he had no idea what his future held or whether, in a couple of months, he’d be living thousands of miles away. So he’d have to be careful not to step over the line. For both their sakes.

‘It’d be pretty stupid to ask a cake fiend if he’d like some brownies,’ Polly said, clearing their plates away. ‘So I’ll just say help yourself.’ She put the plate on the table, and made coffee.

The brownies were surprisingly good. ‘A hidden talent, Ms Adams?’ he asked.

She shrugged. ‘I like baking. I used to make these on Thursday nights for the team—Fridays were our day for shooting the pre-recorded stuff, so we always had Chocolate Fridays.’ Her smile turned super-bright again, and he knew she was missing her old team. But then she gave him a wicked grin. ‘That was your fourth. I thought dancers were leery of scoffing too many carbs?’

‘You were counting? Right. I’ll make you work hard for the rest of the week to burn them off.’

‘Yeah, yeah.’ She took another brownie.

So did he.

When Liam had finished his coffee, he kissed Polly on the cheek. ‘Goodnight. Thanks for dinner.’

‘Pleasure.’

He really wanted to linger. But it wouldn’t be fair to either of them. ‘See you in the morning for training.’