If The Ring Fits.... Kate Hardy

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If The Ring Fits... - Kate Hardy Mills & Boon By Request

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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. You’ve just done your first basic.’

      She coughed.

      ‘What?’

      ‘Well done?’ she prompted.

      He rolled his eyes. ‘Polly, it was four steps. If you want a “well done”, you have to earn it.’

      She should’ve expected that. ‘Right.’

      ‘And now we’re going to do the next one—this time, you’re the one who moves forward. Ready? Forward, forward, side, side.’ He talked her through it—and it actually worked. She hadn’t stood on his toes or tripped. You need to forget what you think you can’t do and trust me. Maybe he was right. Even if he didn’t smile.

      ‘We’ll do a forward and a back now, to make a complete set.’

      She wasn’t sure if she was more surprised or thrilled that she managed eight whole steps without tripping. And it was all thanks to him talking her through it. Being patient. Making more of an effort.

      ‘Now, let’s look at the rhythm. It’s slow, slow, quick-quick. And it’s a lot easier to do it to music, so let me go and sort that out.’

      Polly watched Liam walk over to the corner of the room, where a music system was set up. There was something about a dancer’s walk: neat, beautiful. She couldn’t quite bring herself to use the G-word—not with the connotations that word had for her—but it would describe his movements perfectly. He might be grouchy, but he had style. And how.

      He connected his iPod to the system, flicked a switch, and the first few bars of the music flooded into the studio. She didn’t have a clue what the beat of the song was. But she was going to have to trust Liam not to let her go wrong.

      He took her hand and led her to the far side of the room. ‘We’re going to do the steps I just taught you, for the whole length of the room,’ he said. ‘Are you ready?’

      She nodded.

      ‘Here we go. Slow, slow, quick-quick; slow, slow, quickquick.’ He talked her through the steps.

      And it felt as if she were floating.

      She’d never, ever experienced anything like this. And when he guided her effortlessly round the corners

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