If The Ring Fits.... Kate Hardy

He gestured towards the studio door.

      He assessed Polly swiftly as she walked across the room. She’d replaced yesterday’s glamorous outfit and high heels with loose black trousers and a loose long-sleeved black top, teamed with flat shoes. Despite the camouflage of her clothes, he could see that she didn’t have a dancer’s physique, and she moved without a dancer’s easy grace.

      A total beginner, then. He’d need to push her.

      ‘What dancing experience do you have?’ he asked.

      ‘None. Except a little bit of street dance on the show,’ she admitted, confirming his assessment, ‘and I was absolutely hopeless. It’s just as well they didn’t show that clip on Saturday night.’

      Her smile had turned super-bright. Defence mode again, he guessed. He had no idea why, and he wasn’t going to ask. ‘You must have danced at some point in your life, even if it was just at a wedding.’

      Was it his imagination, or did she just flinch?

      ‘I’ve swayed with someone on a dance floor a couple of times, yes, but that’s about it.’

      ‘How about aerobics classes?’ Some of them used dance routines.

      She shook her head. ‘I’ve never had a gym membership or gone to any kind of class. I’m not really one for exercise, apart from the stuff they got me to do on Monday Mash-up,’ she admitted. ‘I’d much rather curl up on the sofa with a good book or watch a movie.’

      Whereas doing something so passive would bore him witless; he was happiest when he was dancing, losing himself in the music and pushing his body to its limits.

      She looked awkward. ‘You’ve probably worked out already that I’m a bit clumsy.’

      Yes, and part of him found it endearing. But being soft on her wouldn’t get the job done. He pushed the thought away. ‘Do you sing or play an instrument?’

      ‘No.’

      Well, it didn’t necessarily mean that she wasn’t musical. Maybe she just hadn’t had the opportunity to learn to play something. ‘OK.’ He remembered what she’d said the previous day. ‘Do you want a coffee before we start?’

      She shook her head. ‘Thanks, but I’m already caffeined up.’

      He’d just bet she was worrying about spilling her drink. And that smile had turned a little too bright again. He ought to be nice and reassure her. But he’d done his fair share of helping lame ducks in the past, and look where that had got him. Divorced and having to build up his life again from ground zero. He didn’t need any more disruption.

      Particularly as he couldn’t deny that he found Polly attractive. Those wide eyes. That perfect rosebud mouth.

      Not good. He needed to keep this strictly professional. This was work. He took his iPod from his pocket. ‘Right, let’s start with the basics. I’m going to play you snippets from a few songs, and I want you to tell me if you can hear the beat of the music in each one. Tap it out on your knee or the table, or whatever makes you comfortable. And try to emphasise the strong beat in the bar.’

      ‘The strong beat?’ She looked mystified.

      He was really going to have his work cut out here. ‘The first beat of the bar is the strongest and you’ll hear that more easily than anything else. Don’t worry about the introduction. Just tap your finger when you feel you can hear a strong beat, and count from that until the next strong beat. You’ll hear it as one-two-three, or one-two-three-four.’

      ‘OK.’

      He flicked into the first track, a waltz he’d deliberately chosen to have a clear triple-time beat. When Polly stumbled over tapping out the rhythm and was clearly cross with herself for not being able to do it, he tapped it out for her. ‘Can you hear it now?’ he asked.

      ‘Sorry,’ she said with a grimace. ‘Obviously I’m tone-deaf as well as clumsy.’

      Yeah. For a moment, Liam wished he’d been paired with the pop singer. At least she would’ve been able to grasp the basics. Still, he’d been partnered with Polly and he had to make the best of it. ‘Try and listen to as much different music as you can, listen to the beat and practise.’

      ‘Right.’

      So far, so bad. He stifled a sigh. ‘Ballroom dancing is just following a set pattern of steps and matching them to the music. Let’s start with a basic forward and reverse.’

      ‘We’re going to dance right now?’ She looked horrified.

      Just for a second, Liam found himself wanting to reassure her. Polly was very close to getting under his skin. Which rattled him to the point where he found himself being snippy with her, to stop his thoughts going any further in that direction. ‘Did you think we’d wait until the morning of the show before we started practising?’

      Her face went a dull red. ‘No.’ She glanced at the sprung wood floor. ‘Do I need to take my shoes off?’

      ‘No.’ He looked at her flat shoes. ‘But if you have some shoes with a slight heel that you can bring with you, next time, you’ll find it easier on your calves and ankles.’

      ‘Do I need to wear a skirt?’

      ‘As long as it doesn’t restrict your movements, you can wear anything you like.’

      Although she’d worked in TV for long enough to know that most people worked hard to maintain an image for the screen, Polly was still disappointed to realise that Liam Flynn wasn’t the sweet, smiling guy he’d always seemed on the show. He was clearly trying to suppress his impatience—OK, so her clumsiness would drive anyone crazy—but he hadn’t even tried to put her at ease.

      Well, she’d just have to make the best of this. Even if training turned out to be some nightmare boot camp, she needed to stay on the show. She wanted her perfect life back. And Ballroom Glitz was the best way to get it.

      She gave him her brightest smile. ‘So how much time do you think we’ll need for training?’

      ‘We’ll do four hours today, maybe more tomorrow. Let’s see how it goes. Though we’ll avoid the evenings. I don’t want to cause problems with your partner.’

      So he hadn’t been that fully briefed about her, then—and he definitely hadn’t read the gossip rags, or he’d know that Harry had called off the wedding last weekend. Celebrity Life had run a centre spread the previous Thursday entitled ‘Poor Polly’, showing her looking a wreck and Grace looking utterly stunning.

      Well, she wasn’t going to bring up the subject of her wedding-that-wasn’t. She didn’t want Liam’s pity. This was her new life, and she wasn’t letting any of her old life spill into this one and get in the way. ‘I’m single.’ She hadn’t cried about the break-up yet and she wasn’t going to start now. She lifted her chin and gave him another brilliant smile. ‘So it isn’t a problem.’

      ‘Good. We’ll start with the frame. If you watched the show before, you might’ve heard the judges talk about the “frame”.’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘The frame is what helps me lead you round the dance floor. It means our movements are synchronised and in time.’ He stood in front of her, both arms bent at the elbow and resting against her sides.

      Her pulse kicked up a notch at the contact. Unexpected, and scary at the same time; she hadn’t even reacted physically like this to Harry, and she’d been going to marry him.

      Nerves. It had to be nerves, she told herself, and her brain was so scrambled that it was misinterpreting her reactions. This wasn’t attraction. It couldn’t be. She didn’t even like the man.

      ‘With your left hand, you’re going to make a vee with your thumb and middle finger,’ he said, ‘and you’re going to rest that on the vee in my