Ballroom to Bride and Groom. Kate Hardy

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.