shook herself. Be professional. That was what she had to do. And do it now.
Polly Anna Adams was much prettier in the flesh than she’d been in the video clips, with huge eyes, a heart-shaped face and a perfect rosebud mouth that just invited Liam to rub his thumb along her lower lip.
Though he had no intention of giving in to the mad temptation. This was strictly business. And he didn’t do involvement on any level, any more. Not since Bianca. He’d learned the hard way that he was better off on his own. Besides, he didn’t have the time. He had a business to set up and a career to get back on track.
He dutifully kissed Polly’s cheeks for the audience, and caught her scent. Light, floral with a hint of vanilla. Sweet and innocent. Nothing like the sultry, spicy scent that Bianca had used.
She reminded him of Audrey Hepburn, with that urchin haircut and those huge chocolate-brown eyes. The wardrobe department had obviously clocked that, too, giving her a simple black shift dress teamed with long silky gloves, a pearl choker, and classic high-heeled court shoes. The outfit wasn’t like the eye-wincingly bright clothes Polly Anna had worn in the video clips—of course not, because she needed casual clothing to do all the mad stuff with the kids on Monday Mash-up—but it suited her down to the ground. Glamorous, graceful …
And then she slipped on those high, high heels as she turned to face the audience.
Scratch graceful, he thought wryly.
Automatically, he caught her and steadied her.
‘Thanks,’ she mouthed, and her blush was visible right through the studio pan stick. ‘And sorry.’
But the audience weren’t laughing at the unintended slapstick. They were clapping even more. Because she’d shown that she was human, just like them: not some impossibly glamorous model or pop star they could only be like in their dreams.
Once the show was off air and they were heading back towards the Green Room, Polly bit her lip. ‘I’m really sorry about that. I’m not used to walking in heels.’
Or dancing, Liam thought, but he couldn’t quite be unkind enough to say so. ‘Tomorrow’s Sunday. Are you OK to start training then, or do you need to be in rehearsals for your show?’
‘I’m—I guess you’d say resting, right now,’ she admitted, looking awkward.
Showbiz-speak for unemployed. Which gave her a real motivation for staying in the competition.
‘I can fit training sessions around whatever suits you. If I get any auditions, I should be able to give you at least a day’s notice,’ she finished.
‘Good. Lark or owl?’
She blinked. ‘I’m sorry?’
Lord, her eyes were gorgeous. He could drown in them.
He pushed the thought away. For pity’s sake. He needed to concentrate on doing his job, not let himself get distracted by a pretty face. Hadn’t he learned a thing from his past? ‘Are you better working earlier or later in the day?’
‘Oh. I’m a morning person. As long as I’ve had a cup of coffee, first.’ She gave him what he thought might be the first real smile he’d seen from her, one that put a dimple in her cheek and a sparkle in those huge eyes. A smile that made him catch his breath.
‘Fine. I’ll see you tomorrow at eight, then, at my studio.’ He handed her a business card, and his skin tingled where his fingers brushed against hers. Which was insane: he couldn’t afford to let himself get distracted. ‘My mobile number’s on the back, in case you’re going to be late or can’t make it.’
‘Thank you. I’m sorry, I don’t have a business card with me, but I’ll text you on the way home so you have my number,’ she said.
‘Fine. See you at eight, then,’ Liam said. And then he left abruptly, before he let himself do something totally stupid. Like wondering if her lips were as soft and as sweet as they looked. And then being tempted to dip his head to find out …
CHAPTER TWO
LIAM glanced at his watch when the studio’s entry-system intercom buzzed the next morning. Five to eight. Polly Anna was actually on time.
He’d always had to give Bianca a fake deadline two hours earlier than the real one, to give them a hope of being on time—whether it was work or a social event—and it had driven him crazy.
At least Polly Anna was sparing him that. So far.
‘Hello? It’s Polly Anna Adams, here for training with Mr Flynn.’
‘Let’s drop the formalities. I’m Liam,’ he said. ‘I’ll buzz you in. The studio’s on the third floor.’
He waited in the reception area for her to walk up the two flights of stairs. As she emerged through the door, she caught her bag on the door handle, and the door banged against her.
Her face went crimson. ‘I’m so sorry, Mr Fl—Liam,’ she corrected herself.
Impatience warred with being charmed. Charmed won. Just. ‘It’s fine, Polly Anna. Are you OK?’
She nodded. ‘Everyone calls me Polly.’
‘Polly. Come through to the studio and we can talk about the training schedule.’ 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
