Say it with Sequins. Georgia Hill

her laugh. He really was one gorgeous man.

      “The results are in!” screamed Carol, trying to get some excitement going within the audience. “Seven, seven and an eight! That makes a total of …” she paused, obviously unable to work it out, “twenty two! Our highest score this evening. Well Harri, although the judges’ comments were critical they’ve scored you well. How do you feel?”

      Her voice whined on and she kept touching Harri, Julia noticed, on his arm, on his shoulder, on his back, quite low down on his back in fact, near that well shaped and neat behind. Obviously the man’s attractions had been noted by more than her.

      And then it was all over; all they had to do was wait for the public vote and the dance off. Julia had a horrible feeling she might be in it and wasn’t sure how she felt. On the one hand, she wouldn’t have to go through the torture Jan inflicted on her for five hours a day, but it would be a shame to let go this project so soon.

      They all had a short break, filled with interviews and frantically snatched gulps of water and then the dance off was announced.

      To Julia’s total surprise, it was between Suni and Ted. Everyone sat in the backstage room, hunched up on the cream sofas and watched the little monitor in the corner intently. Scott and Suni danced first and, to Julia’s mind, brilliantly. Suni was as graceful and as elegant as ever. The judges pronounced her the winner after Ted had stumbled through his routine and they voted him off.

      “Jeez, just goes to prove none of us is safe doesn’t it?” Harri said in a shocked voice. He gave Julia a swift, hard hug, which sent shockwaves of desire straight through her. Then he got yanked to his feet by Eva, to return to the floor for the finale.

      It was exhausting, Julia thought. Was she really going to have to do this all again next Saturday? She wasn’t sure she had the mental or physical energy. She went up to Ted and his partner Alicia and muttered her condolences. As she looked over, to where Casey was congratulating herself on staying in and where Callum had found enough alcohol to begin the night’s partying early, she thought the wrong people had been sent home.

       Step Three.

      The following Tuesday was earmarked for a quick run through of the dance she and Harri were to perform in the Christmas special. It seemed crazy to Julia that they were practising it when she hadn’t even got the hang of the steps for the dance she and Jan were going to do this Saturday. Jan had been a nightmare the day before and, if it hadn’t have been for the cameras watching their every move, Julia would have retaliated.

      A smiling Harri arrived with a determined Eva in tow. “They’ve picked the dances out of the hat and we’ve got the rumba,” he said with a grin. “The dance of passion!”

      Oh Christ, thought Julia, it’s getting worse. Now I’ve got to make out that I’m in love with the man. Well, she consoled herself, at least he’s easy on the eye, so it might not be all that difficult. He was certainly looking good this morning; fresh and relaxed in dark jeans and a navy t-shirt. Julia gazed down at herself. Jan had called an early rehearsal and they’d already been hard at it for two hours. She was hot and sweaty and definitely did not look her best. She looked over at Eva, in all her blonde coolness, and blew out a frustrated breath. But it was no good, she realised, she would never be like her. She was a completely different body shape for a start. Where Julia was curvy, Eva was tiny, with a waist that was hardly there. And in contrast to Julia’s generously sized eyes and mouth, Eva had narrow, refined features. The huge mirrors, which lined every wall in the dance studio Jan preferred to use, accentuated any comparison. They cruelly pointed out the differences between the two women.

      Julia gritted her teeth and spent the time waiting for Eva and Harri to warm up by nipping out and freshening herself up as best she could. Feeling a little better, she ventured back into the studio.

      Eva clapped her hands. “Now we start!”

      And so they did.

      Thirty minutes later and Julia was feeling distinctly uncomfortable. She liked Harri, no correction; she really liked him, certainly much more than Jan. She felt far more relaxed with him than with her pro-dancer partner but this was too much. Some of the moves Jan and Eva had choreographed were incredibly intimate. Far too intimate for two people who had only met a few times and were just casual friends. And it was very apparent that Harri was having similar misgivings.

      “Not so!” barked Jan at Harri. “Put your hand on her breast bone and stroke like so. It is the dance of love. Make love to her!”

      “I’ve never felt less like making love to anyone,” Harri muttered to Julia. “No offence.”

      Julia scrunched up her eyes, she couldn’t bear to look; she could feel Harri’s embarrassment from here. Her t-shirt was sticking sweatily to her back where his arm was holding her and she was mortified that he had to do this.

      “Bend back more, Julia! Arch over. More!” Eva demanded.

      Julia tried her best but only succeeded in straining Harri’s strength too far and fell to the floor.

      “Are you all right?” he asked and bent over her in concern.

      “Tsk!” Jan exclaimed and strode off in yet another Russian temper.

      “Please tell me why we ever lowered the iron curtain and warmed up the cold front?” said Julia to Harri as he helped her to her feet. She covered her embarrassment by straightening her rucked up t-shirt and smoothing her hair.

      “We finish for break now. Ten minutes only!” Eva snarled and banged out behind Jan.

      Harri looked at Julia, one brow quirked in humour. “And the Swedish were always supposed to be our allies. Come on,” he said as he took her arm. “I’ll buy you a nice coffee from the vending machine.”

      “What, the one where it tastes like Bovril?”

      “That’s the one,” he said flippantly.

      “You know how to treat a woman.”

      “Only the best for you, cariad,” he replied and Julia grinned at the unfamiliar Welsh word. “And, if you’re really lucky, I might even get you a mince-pie; the canteen have just started selling them.”

      “Be still my beating heart!” Julia laughed and realised her heart was pumping fast – and it was nothing to do with the promise of a Christmassy sugar rush.

       Step Four.

      The week continued in much the same vein. They had one more rehearsal of their rumba together which was equally disastrous and then Jan and Eva declared that they must all concentrate on the dances for the next show.

      Jan had chosen wisely again. He and Julia were to dance the American smooth, which meant that Julia could safely rely on him to lead her. There was a tricky moment when she was out of hold but Jan had choreographed most of the dance so that he could control her every move. She needed it; she was still finding it incredibly difficult. She could now master the steps but when it came to adding in all the other details like her head hold or her arm shape, then it all went wrong. And then Jan dropped his bomb shell.

      “We will do lift!” he declared and proceeded to show her.

      “He wants to lift me up and swing me round then hold me on his shoulder!” she bleated a little desperately, to Harri as they shared a pizza after Thursday’s rehearsal. “And he goes and tries to put it into the routine today. We’ve only got two more days to practise!”

      “Seriously?” Harri raised his eyebrows in shock. “Well, don’t do it unless you feel confident enough. He’s a tall bloke.”

      “Tell me about it. He got me up there for the first time this morning and it’s like being hoisted onboard a giraffe!”

      “How tall is he?”

      “I don’t know. Six three, six four? Whatever, it feels bloody scary, I can tell you.”

      “Well, don’t