Kate Hardy - If The Ring Fits... - Ballroom to Bride and Groom / A Bride for the Maverick Millionaire / Promoted - Secretary to Bride!

‘There are two sorts of people: those whose appetite goes when they’re stressed, and those who eat everything in sight. I have to admit, I stuffed my face with cake when Bianca left.’ He gave her a rueful look. ‘I put on ten pounds in a month.’

She winced. ‘Ouch.’

‘The actual ouch bit was having to work it all off again with muscles that I hadn’t been able to use for months—believe me, they really didn’t want to play ball.’

‘It must’ve been really hard for you.’

‘About the same as it is for you, right now,’ he said. ‘I’d lost my career, I’d lost my marriage—and, yes, I lost my home as well, because obviously we had to split our assets in the divorce and it was easiest to sell the flat. Right at that point, I felt that there was nothing left. But I learned something, Polly. I did have something left.’ He paused. ‘I still had me. The one person in my life I can rely on.’

He’d been exactly where she was. Except in an even worse place, really, because he’d thought he’d never be able to do what he loved again. She could still do what she loved—well, she could when she found another job. Or maybe she could come up with a concept for a new show and pitch it to one of Harry’s competitors.

And Liam was right. She still had herself. She could definitely rely on herself. Though she had good friends she could rely on, too. Had it not been like that for him? On impulse, Polly reached out and squeezed his hand. ‘Thank you, Liam.’

He returned the pressure, making little shivers run up her spine. ‘No worries. Been there, done that, come out the other side.’

‘And so will I.’

‘Good.’ He paused. ‘Do you like Chinese food?’

‘Yes.’

‘I was planning on a takeaway dinner tonight. You could join me, if you like,’ he suggested. ‘There’s not far to go, either—my flat’s on the top floor of the building.’

Go home alone to an empty flat. Or take a risk. Get to know Liam a little better.

‘Just so you know,’ he said softly, ‘I’m not coming on to you.’

Which was a relief. And, weirdly, it was a disappointment, too. Which again felt wrong. She hadn’t expected Liam to stir these kinds of emotions in her. Why couldn’t life be simple?

She pulled herself together. ‘And it’ll be OK with your, um, partner if I join you?’

‘Just me. I’ve been single since Bianca left, and that’s the way I’m keeping it. I’m concentrating on getting my career back,’ Liam said. ‘And I guess it’s the same for you, after Harry. So we’re colleagues.’ He paused. ‘We could be friends. Come and have some Chinese food with me.’

Put like that, how could she refuse? ‘Thanks. I’d like that. Provided we go halves on the bill.’ She wasn’t giving up her independence.

‘Deal,’ he said.

And Polly knew that tonight wasn’t going to be the second most miserable night of her life, after all.

LIAM’S flat turned out to be neat and very tidy, much like his office and his dance studio. Polly followed him into the kitchen, where he took a takeaway menu out of a drawer and waved it at her. ‘Is there anything in particular you like or loathe?’ he asked.

‘I like most things, except hot prawns,’ she said.

‘Noted.’ He rang the Chinese takeaway and ordered a variety of dishes. ‘They should be here in about half an hour.’ He rummaged in the fridge. ‘White wine OK?’

‘Yes, thanks.’

He poured two glasses, handed one to her, and ushered her into the living room. It was uncompromisingly masculine, with no cushions and no ornaments of any kind: just a leather sofa, one small bookcase, a television and what looked like state-of-the-art audio-visual equipment. Or maybe, like her, he hadn’t moved in that long ago and hadn’t had time to unpack most of his stuff.

‘How long have you lived here?’ she asked.

‘About a year.’

Her thoughts must have shown on her face, because he said, ‘I’m not keen on clutter and dusting. I’d rather have everything put away.’

‘I kind of expected to see a cupboard full of trophies,’ she said. ‘I know you’ve won loads of competitions.’

He shrugged. ‘Jointly, so Bianca took a lot of them. The rest are packed away.’

Because they were too painful to look at, she guessed. Bringing back memories of who he’d been and who he couldn’t be again.

There were no photographs on the mantelpiece, either—so was he, like her, not very close to his family? Yet he’d mentioned a brother who was a lawyer.

It didn’t feel polite to ask. And it was none of her business anyway. He’d tell her if he wanted her to know.

She sat awkwardly on the sofa, not knowing what to say. This felt almost like a first date—the getting-to-know-you, putting-your-foot-in-it stage. And it really wasn’t how she’d been expecting to spend this evening. Right up until ten days ago, she’d been expecting to spend it dancing and laughing and enjoying herself with people she loved—and instead she was sitting here in silence with a near-stranger who’d had his life knocked off course the same way that she had. A stranger who looked absolutely gorgeous and could take her breath away with his rare smiles—and who could clam up and stick a wall round himself quicker than anyone she’d ever met.

As if he was thinking along similar lines, he blew out a breath. ‘Sorry. My social skills are a bit rusty.’

‘It’s OK.’ She gave him a bright smile.

‘So you live up to your name. Polly Anna. Seeing all the positive things.’

‘Yes.’ It was the one thing her parents had done right: naming her. ‘It helps, finding something good in a tough situation.’

‘Hence the smile.’

‘Something like that.’ She wasn’t going to tell him that her counsellor had given her a version of the Chaplin song when she was fifteen and the lyrics had helped her put her world back together. ‘Smile, and it makes things better.’

‘Not always.’

‘We’ll have to agree to disagree on that one,’ she said.

Finally, his intercom rang to let them know that their meal had arrived. Liam buzzed the delivery boy up, taking crockery and cutlery from cupboards and drawers while they waited, and then Polly helped him unpack the box at the kitchen table. Several times her fingers brushed against his and it sent an odd frisson down her spine.

‘Help yourself,’ he said when they’d opened the last carton.

Polly couldn’t resist the dim sum.

‘Good?’ he asked.

‘Try some.’ Without thinking, she leaned across the table, offering him one of the tiny steamed dumplings on her fork.

Colour stained his cheeks and his eyes widened.

Oh, help. What on earth did she think she was doing? They were practically strangers, and she was treating him like a best friend-cum-hot date. Not good. ‘Sorry,’ she muttered. ‘I, um, forgot where I was.’ She snatched her fork back.

Liam couldn’t remember the last time he’d shared a meal with someone in such an intimate way. And he was oh, so tempted to lean across the table and draw her hand up towards his mouth, so he could finish what she’d just started. Worse still, he could imagine himself feeding her a morsel. Breakfast. In bed. A new-season strawberry, still warm from the sun—making her reach up for it, then tasting the juice of the fruit on her lips.

Oh, help. He needed to get a grip. And somehow defuse the tension in the room; it felt as if all the air had been sucked out.

‘Do you—?’ she began, at the same time as he said, ‘Have you—?’

‘Sorry. You first,’ she said.

‘No, you’re my guest.’

She shook her head. ‘I can’t remember what I was going to say now. But thanks. For bailing me out and not making me feel even more of an idiot.’