If The Ring Fits.... Kate Hardy

to him—and that in turn meant he wouldn’t get hurt.

      The fact that he was starting to open up to her, be Nice Liam again … Well, if he wanted her to trust him, he had to trust her, too. Maybe he’d worked that out for himself.

      And she was overanalysing things. Overreacting to a kiss that hadn’t meant anything more than it would’ve done from Danny, Mike or Charlie. She was stupid to wish for more; or maybe she was just overemotional and mixed-up, given what today should’ve been.

      She let herself into the flat. Although it was tiny, it felt empty.

      ‘Polly Anna Adams, don’t you dare be so wet,’ she told herself.

      And she wasn’t going to let herself think about what Harry was doing tonight.

      At all.

      On Sunday, Polly arrived at Liam’s studio in the afternoon, as they’d arranged.

      Would he mention the kiss? she wondered. Would it have changed things between them? Would he throw up a huge brick wall between them?

      His expression was unreadable. She really wasn’t sure which way this was going to go. His eyes narrowed slightly, as if he’d noticed the shadows beneath her eyes; but then he seemed to switch into professional mode.

      ‘Ready for the routine?’ he asked.

      ‘Sure,’ she said, glad to follow his lead. Glad that he wasn’t going to overanalyse that kiss on her cheek—she’d already done that more than enough.

      The music was upbeat, lively and fun. He broke the routine down into segments for her and talked her through the steps.

      ‘I can’t believe you’ve put this routine together so quickly.’

      He shrugged off the compliment, though a glitter in those gorgeous navy blue eyes told her that he was pleased. ‘I told you I liked choreographing.’

      The training session went incredibly quickly; at the end, Liam said, ‘I’ve been thinking. You really ought to go to the wardrobe department tomorrow afternoon to sort out your dress for Saturday. And it might be useful to practise the last few days of the routine in a skirt, so wearing the costume doesn’t throw you on the night.’

      Polly bit her lip. The wardrobe department. They’d styled her as Audrey Hepburn, last time; hopefully this time they’d give her a pair of long gloves again, or if not then a dress with long sleeves. Or maybe she could tell them she was superstitious and she’d get stage fright with short sleeves …

      Though she knew that Liam wouldn’t buy that. Eventually, he’d ask why she always covered her wrists. But she couldn’t face telling him the shameful truth.

      She cleared her throat. ‘Were you planning to go with me?’

      ‘I’m teaching the cast a new routine tomorrow. If you’re desperate for a second opinion, I can probably spare you five minutes. But the show’s been running for six years, now, and Rhoda in the wardrobe department’s very experienced. You’ll be fine.’

      ‘So does she choose the dress for me?’

      ‘She’ll probably offer you a selection,’ Liam explained. ‘She knows you’re dancing the foxtrot, so she’ll find you some costumes that suit the dance—but it’s your choice within that selection. I’ll be in a black tailcoat with a white shirt and a white tie, so you won’t clash with me, whatever colour you choose.’

      ‘Any colour I like?’ she tested.

      He wrinkled his nose. ‘Maybe not quite as bright as the stuff you used to wear on Monday Mash-up.’

      She laughed. ‘Very tactful. OK. Noted. Something classy. Anything else I need to look for?’

      ‘Keep the hem of your dress just above your ankle, so your heel won’t catch in the material, and pick shoes with a similar heel height to the ones you’ve been dancing in. And you’ll need to dance in them for the rest of the week, so you get used to the weight and the feel of them.’

      ‘OK.’ She summoned up a smile. ‘See you tomorrow.’

      Monday’s training session went well, but Polly’s confidence had evaporated by the time she got to the wardrobe department. Thankfully one of the dresses Rhoda had selected for her had long sleeves; it was the right length, too. Sea green and floaty, with silver shoes.

      Looking at herself in the mirror, Polly thought, Nobody at Monday Mash-up would recognise me. She wasn’t sure she recognised herself. But that was a good thing—wasn’t it?

      ‘So what’s your dress like?’ Liam asked Polly, the next morning.

      ‘Green.’

      He raised an eyebrow

      ‘What’s the problem?’ she asked.

      ‘You’re not superstitious, then?’

      She rolled her eyes. ‘Don’t tell me you are.’

      ‘No.’ But he didn’t sound too sure.

      ‘It’s all rubbish about green being an unlucky colour. And yellow. I used to wear lime green all the time on Monday Mash-up.’

      ‘Lime green,’ he said, sounding thoughtful. ‘Is that what you chose?’

      Unable to resist teasing him, she pointed out, ‘You said I wouldn’t clash with you, whatever I chose.’

      ‘Lime green. Okay-y-y,’ he said. ‘Tomorrow, you need to wear a skirt to training. Did you bring your shoes?’

      ‘I forgot,’ she admitted. ‘I’ll bring them tomorrow.’

      ‘And they match your dress?’

      ‘They’re silver,’ she said. Which would tell him nothing about the colour of her dress. ‘You’ll see the dress on Saturday.’

      But she duly wore a skirt and the silver shoes on Wednesday. They polished the routine on Thursday and Friday, pausing only to do a quick video of their training progress for the Step by Step programme. By the end of the last training session, Polly was totally sick of ‘Beyond the Sea’ and swore privately that she’d never, ever listen to the song again after the show on Saturday.

      ‘Do something that helps you relax, tonight,’ Liam said as she was about to leave the studio. ‘Read a good book or curl up on the sofa with a film.’

      She scoffed. ‘I’m surprised you’re not telling me to go on a five-mile run.’

      ‘No, that’s what I’d do to relax.’

      ‘So are we training tomorrow morning?’

      ‘No, because we have a dress rehearsal in the afternoon. I don’t want to overdo things. See you tomorrow on the set.’

      On Saturday afternoon, Polly turned up at the TV studios for the dress rehearsal, and changed into her dress. She knew that Liam would be in a tailcoat, but even so she wasn’t prepared for how gorgeous he looked.

      And getting the shivers when she saw him was utterly ridiculous. He’d made it very clear that he wasn’t interested in her beyond teaching her to dance for the competition. He wasn’t interested in a relationship, full stop. He was focused on getting his career back. And she was behaving like a newly hatched chick, trying to bond with the first person she saw.

      Be professional, she told herself, and held her head high as she walked over to him.

      Last time, the wardrobe department had styled Polly as Audrey Hepburn. Today, she took his breath away. The dress was floaty and elegant, and, although she looked slightly nervous, she looked beautiful. Like Sleeping Beauty when the prince’s kiss had first woken her.

      And Liam was shocked to find himself wondering what it would be like to kiss her. Properly this time …

      But this wasn’t