‘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.
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