The Waltz

Step Six.

Step Seven.

Step Eight.

Step Nine.

Step Ten.

Step Eleven.

Step Twelve.

Step Thirteen.

About HarperImpulse (#litres_trial_promo)

About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)

Georgia Hill (#u1ee809ec-3960-50a2-86e7-3afea3574413)

I used to live in London, where I worked in the theatre. Then I got the bizarre job of teaching road safety to the U.S. navy – in Marble Arch!

A few years ago, I did an ‘Escape to the Country’. I now live in a tiny Herefordshire village, where I scandalise the neighbours by not keeping ‘country hours’ and being unable to make a decent pot of plum jam. Home is a converted oast house, which I share with my two beloved spaniels, husband (also beloved) and a ghost called Zoe.

I’ve been lucky enough to travel widely, though prefer to set my novels closer to home. Perhaps more research is needed? I’ve always wanted to base a book in the Caribbean!

I am addicted to Belgian chocolate, Jane Austen and, most of all, Strictly Come Dancing.

Keep dancing, everyone!

To Sarah, who loved Strictly Come Dancing.

Say it with Sequins. (#u1ee809ec-3960-50a2-86e7-3afea3574413)

(#u1ee809ec-3960-50a2-86e7-3afea3574413)

The Waltz: a dance full of romance. (#u1ee809ec-3960-50a2-86e7-3afea3574413)

“The waltz really is the most romantic of dances. With the right pairing, costumes and music, it can transport you into a fairyland. How lovely to find your very own Prince Charming to hold you in his arms.” Tabitha ‘Whiz’ Wisley, Tattin and Brownlow Literary Agency.

Step One.

Lucy sat back on a gilded chair and watched as the studio party got going. The ninth series of the ever-popular Who Dares Dances competition had just wrapped its first show – and she had been in it.

Her lips curled into a relieved smile. No one milling round on the famous dance floor, champagne in hand, could possibly know how much it had cost Lucy to dance that one short waltz in front of a studio audience of two hundred, and a television audience of, well, it was anyone’s guess. Lucy tried not to think about the millions of viewers examining every fluffed move, every faltering missed beat that she had taken – for a recovering agoraphobic that was a dance step too far.

“Ready to join the party, Cinders?” It was Daniel Cunningham, her professional dance partner, bowing with theatrical extravagance and holding a hand out to her. Lucy leapt to her feet with a triumphant smile, ignored her sore feet and, once more, allowed Daniel to lead her onto the dance floor.

As they reprised their dance, she couldn’t help but think how lucky she was with her partner. Patient and kind-hearted, Daniel had been nothing but encouragement. The weeks of training had flown by and now, unbelievably, it was the launch show party. The show itself had passed in a blur. Lucy had seen it as though through another’s eyes – it was as if she hadn’t been there. She had no recollection of actually performing the dance, of even walking down the famous gilded staircase to the dance floor. But she supposed that somehow she must have done it. The judges remarked that her waltz had been competent, which she felt damned it with faint praise but she’d gotten through. It was only after the show had finished that she realised what she had achieved. And that was when her legs threatened to give way and she had sought out a quiet chair, away from the hubbub of the manic chatter and post- show analysis. Back to what she was good at – watching.

“You okay, Lucy?” Daniel peered down at her. “You’re deep in thought.” He swung her round and made her bend backwards, making her giggle.

“I’m fine. Better than fine,” she grinned back at him. “I’m marvellous!”

As she straightened, one of the other celebrity contestants, Max Parry, captured her attention, not difficult considering he was six feet five or so. He was one of the loveliest men she had ever met, not that she’d met all that many. A gentle, shy man, he possessed an all too rare smile, which, if you were lucky enough to be a recipient, warmed you from head to toe. He’d spear headed the successful Team GB claim and had come home from the competition triumphant with an unbelievable three gold medals strung across his broad chest.

Daniel noticed who she was staring at. “Poor Max,” he said. “He may be the world’s fastest man in water but he’s struggling on the dance floor.”

Lucy and Daniel trained in the dance studio next door to Max and his beautiful American partner Lola, and Daniel was forever feeding her information about Max's progress. Daniel had taken the swimmer under his wing and was helping him as much as he could. Despite Max’s lack of natural dance talent Lucy knew that, underneath the reserved exterior, there lurked a fiercely competitive streak.

Lucy apologised as she accidentally trod on Daniel’s foot. “Max is working harder than any of us,” she said hotly.

Lucy had lived a solitary existence until recently and had never had a proper boyfriend. Instead, she fell victim to intense crushes on actors on TV, characters in books – in short, on anyone so remote so as not to demand anything like a relationship with her.

“I know you’ve got a soft spot for him and I know he’s working his balls off,” Daniel said, as he steered them expertly around the dance floor, “but sadly, I don’t think he’s going to last long in the competition.”

Lucy looked up at him indignantly. She was going to say something else in defence of Max but thought better of it. Since beginning Who Dares Dances, Lucy had broken the habit of a lifetime. She had developed a raging crush on Max Parry, lanky Olympic swimmer. The crush was a familiar feeling; that it was focussed on someone real, someone she had to encounter most days with, was most definitely new. Her feelings were acutely and wholly distracting and Lucy sighed as she watched Lola glide Max across the floor in an easy waltz. He was chatting to his partner, obviously relieved at scraping through after being saved in the judges' vote off. Lucy continued to gaze, as she danced, allowing Daniel full control of where they were headed. She luxuriated in being able to gaze at Max undetected. He was in perfect physical shape; he had a typical swimmer’s build, with wide powerful shoulders narrowing dramatically to a muscular pair of hips and long, long legs. A tan he had collected during the recent big competition emphasised every hard toned muscle.

It was just such a shame that he was gay.

Sensing his partner’s concentration wasn’t entirely on her waltz, Daniel suggested a drink. “Don’t know about you but I’m gasping for one,” he said as he led her to the bar in the corner of Fizz TV’s studio one. Lucy took a last look at Max’s elegantly shaped head as he was swirled around by Lola and then obediently followed her dance partner.

After their first round had been gulped down, Daniel excused himself and went to intercept Max, who had been released by Lola and was looking a lot happier for it.

As soon as he’d gone, Lucy called over the barman, asked for another drink and then nursed a cold lager shandy as she watched Daniel and Max while they talked. They made a striking pair. Both men were extremely tall and tanned and attractive. Her good friend and finalist from last year’s competition, the actress Julia Cooper, had been delighted when Lucy had told her who was to be her partner. She’d raved about Daniel but had confided that he was probably gay. Looking at the body language as the two men strolled towards her, Lucy had a feeling Daniel might have made a conquest.

“Lucy lovie, ready for another yet? No?” Daniel peered at Lucy’s glass with interest. When he’d ordered drinks before, she’d had wine. “You should’ve told me you preferred lager. How refreshing. Don’t mind if Max joins us, do you?”

Lucy shook her head and indicated the empty stools at the bar. Daniel took the one to her right and she sensed Max slide onto the one on her left. She sensed it because she was too mortified by her suddenly hot face to actually look.

Daniel cheerfully summoned the barman. “Another pint, Lucy?”

“N-no thanks.”

“Max, what would you like? Weak orange squash? Are you serious? Oh well barman, a G and T for me, with extra tonic and a pint of squash for my aquatic friend. Oh and nuts and crisps. I’m ravenous. Four packets of each, please.”

Daniel turned to Lucy. “Got to say it’s nice to see a girl enjoying a pint after a hard night’s work.” He was obviously amused.

Lucy knew she should have chosen something more sophisticated to drink but she’d been thirsty. Feeling foolish, she pushed her glass away.

“Great show tonight, wasn’t it Lucy? Shame Lester had to go out.” Daniel shovelled crisps into his mouth.

“Y-yes. He was a nice man.” Lester Harris, the well-known and eccentric sports commentator had been voted off that night.

Lucy eyed the crisps desperately. She was starving but found it impossible to eat in public.

“Lousy dancer though, despite all the work he put in.” Daniel turned and waved at someone on the other side of the bar. “Darlings, will have to love you and leave you for the moment. Just seen Kevin.”