LITMIR.BIZ

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applause astounded her. As did the praise from the judges.

      At the end of the show, they were in sixth place on the judges’ leader board. Millie came over to her with a microphone. ‘How do you feel, Polly?’

      ‘Utterly thrilled that we’re not bottom this week!’ Polly said, beaming. ‘I loved learning the cha cha cha.’

      ‘And you hope that you’ll be here next week?’

      She nodded. ‘I really want to stay in, because next week is the waltz. I’ve always wanted to do that—whenever I’ve watched the show, the dancers looked so romantic in those floaty dresses.’

      ‘If you want to see Polly Anna and Liam doing the waltz next week, phone up and vote for them!’ Millie ordered the audience.

      While they were waiting for the phone lines to close, the professional dancers did two numbers, and there was a chart act playing their last hit and the newest single.

      Polly tried not to let her nerves get the better of her. This week was the first elimination. Even though they’d managed to stay out of the bottom two on the leader board, if the public hadn’t responded to them and they ended up in the bottom two once the votes were taken into account they would be in the dance off.

      ‘And now, the moment you’ve been waiting for—the results,’ Millie intoned.

      All the couples walked onto the stage and waited in their allotted spots, with a light fixed on each of them. Polly’s heart was pounding so hard, she was sure the audience would be able to hear it.

      Liam stood behind her with his arms wrapped round her. He dipped his head so he could whisper into her ear, ‘Stop worrying. It doesn’t matter if we end up in the dance off. You’ve done really well tonight and you know you can do it.’

      ‘And the first couple who will be going to the dance off tonight, in no particular order, are Jane and André.’

      The next two names were a blur.

      ‘Also going through next week—Polly Anna and Liam!’

      For a second, Polly couldn’t take it in.

      They were through.

      They were through! She whooped and mouthed ‘Thank you’ to the cameras, then spun round and kissed Liam as the spotlight above them switched off.

      Liam’s arms wrapped round her, holding her close.

      And then his mouth moved against hers. Teasing her. Coaxing her. Tiny, nibbling kisses that made her press herself against him and tip her head back, changing the angle between them so he could part her lips and deepen the kiss.

       Kaboom.

      So this was what it felt like. As if her blood were fizzing through her veins. As if a thousand starbursts had lit up the sky. As if she were floating. And her senses were filled with Liam. The softness of his skin against hers, the citrusy scent of his shower gel, the warmth of his arms wrapped round her, the sweetness of his mouth.

      She’d never, ever felt like this before, wanting the kiss to last until the end of time because it was so utterly, utterly perfect.

      But then Liam stopped kissing her and Polly was horribly aware of a low catcall coming from Kyle, the footballer who was one place above them on the leader board.

      ‘You two had better hope the cameras didn’t catch that,’ he said.

      Oh, no. If that had been shown on national TV, the gossip rags would be going crazy. She and Liam had both had more than enough column inches about them for the wrong reasons.

      She pulled back. ‘Whoops. Guess I got a bit overexcited about getting through to next week,’ she said lightly.

      She couldn’t meet Liam’s eyes as the shame scalded through her. She’d just let him kiss her stupid onstage, in front of millions. Worse still, she’d incited it by kissing him in the first place.

      How stupid was she?

      ‘I—I’d better get changed. See you tomorrow,’ she said, and raced off the stage, not wanting to face him again until she’d had time to cool down and get her common sense back.

       CHAPTER EIGHT

      POLLY had a whole night to think about what an idiot she’d been. Not only had she let Liam kiss her stupid onstage, she’d fled afterwards, too flustered to face him. She hadn’t answered her phone or a single text message. She’d just holed up in her flat, filled with panic about her recklessness.

      OK, so this had been building up ever since they’d danced together at the club. Ever since he’d nearly kissed her in training. She’d known deep down that it would happen.

      But she’d handled it really, really badly.

      Would Liam have spent last night thinking about the way they’d kissed as the spotlight went off? Would he realise that she’d rushed off in panic? Or would he think she was capricious, treating him the way his ex had?

      How would he react to her this morning?

      She felt more nervous when she rang the bell to the studio than she’d felt at her first training session. Would he even answer the intercom?

      ‘Come up,’ he said, and pressed the buzzer to let her in.

      She couldn’t tell a thing from the tone of his voice; it was completely neutral. Her nerves increased as she walked up the two flights of stairs to the studio and opened the door.

      When she entered the room, she couldn’t tell a thing from his expression, but she knew she had to face up to this. Explain herself.

      ‘About last night …’ She stopped, not having a clue what to say. ‘I’m sorry,’ she mumbled.

      ‘Uh-huh.’

      Why did he have to be so inscrutable? Couldn’t he help her out here, show some kind of reaction so she had some idea of how he felt—what he wanted?

      ‘I guess I panicked.’

      ‘I noticed.’

      Was he angry? Hurt? Amused? She didn’t have a clue. ‘So what happens now?’ she asked warily.

      ‘It’s like you said last night. You were overexcited about getting through. So was I.’ He shrugged. ‘These things happen. It doesn’t mean anything.’

       It doesn’t mean anything.

      She fought to keep her expression neutral. She’d felt the kaboom—but Liam obviously hadn’t.

      And that hurt.

      No way was she going to let him know that. But she’d make very sure that from now on she regarded the dancing as strictly work and nothing more. She wasn’t going to make the same mistake she’d made with Harry and fall for someone whose feelings weren’t the same as hers. Even if right now she was too confused to know exactly what those feelings were.

      But she could definitely smile her way through this one. ‘I’m glad that’s sorted,’ she said, in super-bright Polly Anna mode. ‘Well, no rest for the wicked. We’re starting the waltz today, aren’t we?’

      ‘Yes. Are there any songs I need to avoid, apart from the one I already know about?’

      She shook her head. ‘Just that one.’

      ‘Good. Let’s get started. The waltz is a little bit like the foxtrot, but there are three steps instead of four, and the rhythm’s slightly different. Back, side, close—each for one beat.’ He demonstrated the moves for her.

      It looked easy enough. Then again, she’d had trouble with the foxtrot. She couldn’t afford to get this wrong. Not if they were going to

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