If The Ring Fits.... Kate Hardy

      ‘Start at my elbow and push your hand up until you find the vee,’ Liam instructed.

      And now she was touching him. Running her fingers over his bare skin, because he was wearing a vest-type T-shirt. And every nerve in her body felt as if it had just sat up and begged.

      Oh, help. Looking at and appreciating a fine male form was perfectly acceptable—expected, even, in her world—but getting this warm, sensual coil of desire in her belly … That was scary. Not what she needed or wanted right now.

      And it made her cross with herself. She was being pathetic and needy, on the rebound and desperate for some affection from anyone who was in the slightest bit kind to her—and Liam hadn’t exactly been kind. He hadn’t even so much as smiled at her.

      ‘I’ve found the vee,’ she said.

      ‘Now lift your third and index fingers up as if they’re a butterfly’s wings,’ he said.

      She was all too aware of the narrow band of white on her left ring finger, but he made no comment.

      ‘Now, your right hand.’ He moved his left arm, pivoting from the elbow, so that his palm was facing her and his thumb was lifted. ‘Sometimes you see people dancing with their fingers laced together. It doesn’t work in ballroom, because when you want to do a turn you’ll end up in a tangle if your fingers are linked. So instead you rest your fingers over mine, and curve your thumb round mine, so you can turn your hand in mine when you need to.’ He talked her through the hold.

      He really hadn’t been prepared for the touch of her skin against his. How it would make him feel. That it would make him want to slip out of the ballroom hold and tangle his fingers properly with hers.

      This was supposed to be work. He really shouldn’t be letting himself get so distracted by her. Attracted by her.

      Annoyance at his reaction to her made him sharp. ‘And that’s it.’

      Except now she had to move her feet. Which might be a problem.

      ‘OK. Now the feet.’ He dropped her hands. ‘One small step back with your right foot.’ He blew out a breath as she took a step back with her left foot. ‘Your right foot, Polly.’

      ‘Is it any wonder I can’t tell my right from my left, when you’re glaring at me like that?’ She shook her head. ‘I thought you’d be different.’

      He frowned. ‘How do you mean?’

      ‘Maybe I’ve been spoiled, because the boys on Monday Mash-up are the same offscreen as they are onscreen. But you’re not. I used to watch Ballroom Glitz and you were nice. Supportive.’

      Liam lifted his chin. ‘I am being supportive.’

      ‘Right,’ she scoffed. ‘You haven’t said a single encouraging word to me.’

      ‘What do you want me to do? Tell you how marvellous you are while you’re doing something wrong? That’s not going to help you improve, is it?’

      ‘No, but it wouldn’t kill you to smile.’

      ‘Says the woman who smiles all the time and pretends everything’s perfect.’

      It wasn’t pretend. If she tried hard enough, it became real. ‘Haven’t you ever heard the saying, “smile and the world smiles with you”?’

      ‘It’s fake.’

      ‘Fake it until you make it,’ Polly said. ‘Don’t knock it. It works.’

      He rolled his eyes. ‘I need you to concentrate on learning these steps. I assume you actually want to stay in the competition?’

      ‘I can’t afford not to,’ she admitted.

      ‘Then concentrate, Polly. Right foot back.’

      She narrowed her eyes at him. ‘The papers said you were planning to start master-classes on dancing, for actors and what have you.’

      He frowned again. ‘Yes.’

      ‘I wouldn’t bother,’ she said. ‘Because, the way you are with people, they won’t want to come back for a second less on.’

      ‘Or maybe they’ll be professional and concentrate their energies on learning the steps instead of grinning inanely.’

      She could walk out of that door, right now.

      But the show was her best chance of finding another job and getting her life back to normal. Back to perfect. So walking out wasn’t a real option.

      She gritted her teeth. ‘Just in case it hasn’t occurred to you, I know I’m massively clumsy. I’m scared I’m going to make a mess of this. And your attitude isn’t helping. Here’s the deal. You try to be less abrasive, and I’ll try harder to do what you tell me and get it right.’

      Liam hadn’t expected Little Miss Sweetness-and-Light to have that much of a backbone.

      Maybe there was more to her than that super-bright smile.

      And maybe she had a point. In the past, he’d been kind to his partners on Ballroom Glitz, and that had helped him teach them the trickier steps. OK, so he’d been in a different place then, and he was still angry that he had to build his career up from scratch again, but taking out his anger on Polly—particularly because his body’s reaction to her threw him—wasn’t going to help either of them.

      ‘I’m sorry. I haven’t been fair to you,’ he said. ‘I guess it’s daunting if you haven’t danced before.’

      ‘Thank you for acknowledging that. And it must be frustrating if the person you’re teaching doesn’t get it and you think it’s because they’re not paying attention.’

      She understood that? He echoed her words. ‘Thank you for acknowledging that.’ He looked at her. ‘I think we’ve got off on the wrong foot.’

      ‘Literally.’ She smiled at him.

      Genuinely, this time. So he made the effort to smile back. ‘Shall we start again? And maybe you’ll find it easier if we’re in hold and I’m leading you.’

      ‘You feel too close,’ she said, ‘in hold. I’m not used to being that close to someone I barely know.’

      And that worried her? Did she think he was going to come on to her? ‘Is this where I do the Johnny Castle line about my space and your space?’ he asked lightly.

      Her eyes crinkled at the corners. ‘I love that film. But I’m never going to dance like Baby. If you make me do steps on a tree-trunk, I’ll fall off and break my ankle.’

      ‘Firstly, we’re sticking to a dance floor. No tree-trunks. Secondly, Baby and Johnny weren’t dancing ballroom. And, thirdly, you need to forget what you think you can’t do and trust me.’

      ‘I don’t know you. How can I trust you?’

      Fair point. He didn’t trust her, either. He didn’t trust anyone. ‘What was that you were saying about fake it until you make it?’ It came out slightly more caustic than he’d intended, and he felt a throb of guilt when she flinched.

      ‘OK. I’ll pretend I trust you.’

      ‘Good. Back in hold, then.’ He squeezed her right hand. ‘You start with the leg on this side. Your right. One step back.’

      It was a truce, of sorts. Polly decided to accept it.

      ‘Left leg back the same amount.’

      She followed his instructions carefully.

      ‘Now a tiny step to the side with your right leg—’ he squeezed her right hand again ‘—and then bring your left leg across to join it so your feet are together.’

      Step, step.

      ‘That’s it.