Kate Hardy – If The Ring Fits...: Ballroom to Bride and Groom / A Bride for the Maverick Millionaire / Promoted: Secretary to Bride! (страница 18)
But she’d handled it really, really badly.
Would Liam have spent last night thinking about the way they’d kissed as the spotlight went off? Would he realise that she’d rushed off in panic? Or would he think she was capricious, treating him the way his ex had?
How would he react to her this morning?
She felt more nervous when she rang the bell to the studio than she’d felt at her first training session. Would he even answer the intercom?
‘Come up,’ he said, and pressed the buzzer to let her in.
She couldn’t tell a thing from the tone of his voice; it was completely neutral. Her nerves increased as she walked up the two flights of stairs to the studio and opened the door.
When she entered the room, she couldn’t tell a thing from his expression, but she knew she had to face up to this. Explain herself.
‘About last night …’ She stopped, not having a clue what to say. ‘I’m sorry,’ she mumbled.
‘Uh-huh.’
Why did he have to be so inscrutable? Couldn’t he help her out here, show some kind of reaction so she had some idea of how he felt—what
‘I guess I panicked.’
‘I noticed.’
Was he angry? Hurt? Amused? She didn’t have a clue. ‘So what happens now?’ she asked warily.
‘It’s like you said last night. You were overexcited about getting through. So was I.’ He shrugged. ‘These things happen. It doesn’t mean anything.’
She fought to keep her expression neutral. She’d felt the kaboom—but Liam obviously hadn’t.
And that
No way was she going to let him know that. But she’d make very sure that from now on she regarded the dancing as strictly work and nothing more. She wasn’t going to make the same mistake she’d made with Harry and fall for someone whose feelings weren’t the same as hers. Even if right now she was too confused to know exactly what those feelings were.
But she could definitely smile her way through this one. ‘I’m glad that’s sorted,’ she said, in super-bright Polly Anna mode. ‘Well, no rest for the wicked. We’re starting the waltz today, aren’t we?’
‘Yes. Are there any songs I need to avoid, apart from the one I already know about?’
She shook her head. ‘Just that one.’
‘Good. Let’s get started. The waltz is a little bit like the foxtrot, but there are three steps instead of four, and the rhythm’s slightly different. Back, side, close—each for one beat.’ He demonstrated the moves for her.
It looked easy enough. Then again, she’d had trouble with the foxtrot. She couldn’t afford to get this wrong. Not if they were going to stay in the competition. Given that Liam might have a Broadway producer interested in his work, she owed it to him to get this right.
‘I’m going to keep it uncomplicated this morning, until you’re used to it. You’ll be going backwards, and we’ll dance anticlockwise round the room,’ he told her. ‘We’ll bank round the corners for now, because I want you to get used to the rhythm of the dance before we add in the turns.’
He switched on the music; when the first notes of ‘Moon River’ floated into the air, her smile turned genuine. ‘I know this one.
‘You look like Audrey Hepburn, with your hair like that.’
No way was she as gorgeous and elegant as the actress, but the compliment warmed her—and flustered her at the same time.
Though that wasn’t strictly true, she knew. The real reason she was flustered was Liam and her growing awareness of him. Did she feel this way just because they were spending so much time together? Or was it more than that? Guilt flooded through her. It was only a couple of weeks after she should’ve been getting married to Harry, and right now she couldn’t really remember how Harry made her feel. But one thing she was absolutely sure about: he hadn’t made her pulse skip the way Liam did. She’d never reacted this strongly to anyone before. Never felt the kaboom. She wanted to run away and pretend it wasn’t happening; but at the same time she couldn’t deny it. Part of her wanted to go for it; but part of her was too scared to risk it.
She could see that Liam was looking at her mouth, and suddenly she couldn’t breathe. So much for what he’d said about it not meaning anything. She had the distinct feeling that he, too, was thinking about that kiss last night. That he, too, wanted to repeat it? That 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
‘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.’