Chapter 10
CHAPTER 10
“O kay, now the jive. What do you know about it?” Bailey tilted her head slightly at where the cameras were filming them. Rehearsals stopped for no man, even if their arrival back home so late—so early, actually, it being almost one when they got home this morning—had seen a delayed start until eleven, instead of their usual nine AM. Ella had understood, but still wanted footage, even though Bailey still felt a little too slug-like. Thank goodness Luc had arrived with coffees made by Max today. She might even have to schedule an extra coffee break as well. She didn’t think she’d manage travelling like this next week. But for now, the show must go on.
Luc drained his coffee and placed the to-go cup down near the mirror. “So, this may surprise you, but I actually looked up some of the dances we might do.”
“No!”
“Yes!”
She laughed. Oh, she liked it when he was fun like this. Probably liked it a little too much, but anyway. “So, tell me what you know.”
“Okay, so it looks kind of fun, it’s fast-paced, with lots of kicking.”
She clapped her hands. “Exactly!” The jive was pretty technical, but maybe this week would be easier than she thought.
“Have we got a theme or something?”
“Not really. Well, I took on board what some of the judges were saying about looking for your strengths. So, I thought maybe we could try to do something like what you might do on the ice.”
“You mean like beat people up?”
He did that?
“Whoa, no. I never do that.” He winked. “Not much anyway.”
Okay. That was a surprising revelation she hadn’t expected today. Luc didn’t really hurt people, did he? Maybe she should follow Poppy’s advice and watch some of his previous games. The fact he might hurt people was a disconcerting twist on what she’d thought she’d known about the man. “Well, I’d sort of imagined something more like an old-fashioned ice rink, or roller rink, I suppose, complete with mirror ball. You could start in the middle of the floor, clicking your fingers as the music starts, you know, to prove your musicality, then spinning around when I come on, which is when we’d start the dance.”
He nodded, arms folded, but his face didn’t hold protest.
She felt an internal ping of relief. “And I know you want a redemption round with a lift, so I thought we might try to add one or two in. They’re not hard.” She quickly demonstrated, bending her knees, explaining how if he bent his knees at the same time, she could propel herself up using the momentum as she held his hand, and he could direct her body into a new position. “See how easy that is?”
They did it a few more times, then she got him to hold her in what she called a trapeze grip as he spun her around before gently lowering her to the floor. “We might not do that spin this week, but we definitely could use it for the waltz the week after.”
“I hope so. That felt amazing.”
She smiled, her heart snagging at the soft expression on his face as he studied her. Almost like he wanted to absorb her features forever, like he liked her or something.
What was she thinking? Hadn’t he told his friends he didn’t want a relationship with her? She really needed to get a grip and stay professional. She glanced across at Ella and the guys. She couldn’t give any impression that they were more than dance pro and celebrity.
Maybe Luc thought the same for he coughed. “Yeah, those lifts are three thousand times easier than what we did last week,” he said.
“Right? They’re pretty fun, provided you can keep up because it’s so fast.”
“I hear a challenge there, Sergeant.”
Good.
“So, do we have more modern music?”
“How do you feel about The Weeknd?”
“He’s Canadian, so that’s a plus.”
“You know the song ‘Blinding Lights’?”
It was like a switch was flicked and he became animated. “Yeah, that’s a cool one.”
“Okay. So, imagine a dark room, lasers, spotlights, and you, dressed in suspenders, black pants, white shirt—”
“No suit?” he asked with a hopeful look.
“No suit.”
He fist-pumped.
“But maybe slicked-back hair, pulled back in a ponytail.”
“Ugh. Man-buns have never been my thing.”
“Don’t look like that. Come on, you’re playing a part, remember? Anyway, you could wear a fedora—”
“A what?”
“A snappy-looking hat. Tilted over one side of your face. Like you’re a cool dude.”
“Are you saying I’m not cool?”
She bit back a laugh. “Like the coolest dude you know.”
“Like Zac Parotti?”
“Who?”
He laughed, the big bellowing sound causing her to smile. He looked at the cameras and smiled. “I like this one. She’s a keeper.”
“Come on.” She gently slapped his arm. “Stop worrying about what you’re going to wear.”
“Do I need to worry about what you’re going to wear?”
She shook her head. She’d seen the sketch of her outfit, and she didn’t think he’d mind it. “There’s no big billowy skirt for you to get tangled in this time.”
He bit his lip for a moment, and she regretted reminding him of last night’s fail. Resolve dug deeper to make sure he was confident. Which would only come from practice.
“We need to get dancing. Now this dance means you really have to work on your musicality. You need to feel the rhythm, and hit the beats. Which means listening to the song lots of times so you know where to come in. But before we can do that, we need to get to work on all those kicks, and flicks, and your fast footwork. So, are you ready?”
“Bring it.”
So she did.
She was close to puffing by the time they’d finished, but his cardio was pretty good, his stamina impressive, as he’d barely broken a sweat. “I can’t believe I’m puffing and you look like you’ve just gone for a stroll.”
“I go running every morning.” He half-smiled. “Maybe you should come sometime.”
Blessed coolness trickled down her throat as she guzzled her water. “I know it doesn’t look like it at the moment, but I get enough fitness from leading classes here. I occasionally go to Pilates, but I don’t go to the gym and I definitely don’t need to run.”
“You’re missing out.”
“I really don’t think I am.”
He clicked his fingers. “But you are missing out on something.”
“What’s that?”
“The greatest sport on earth.”
“You mean ballet?”
He snorted, and the cameras drew near again. “Ballet isn’t a sport.”
“Yes, it is. Ballerinas are just as much athletes as you are.”
“Come on. It’s not a sport. There aren’t any goals or score lines.”
“Um, excuse me, but ballet is both a sport and an art form. The preparation elite ballerinas undergo is similar to anything you do, and requires similar levels of physical exertion, difficult skills, and long, long hours of discipline.”
“Yeah, but there’s no team or competition—”
“There is.” She stepped closer, enjoying this sparring of words. “We might not have a scoreboard you can read, but there’s plenty of competition to get into the best schools and perform the lead roles and be known as the best. In fact, ballet is so physically demanding that a study ranked ballet as the number one most physically and mentally demanding activity there is. Did you know that?”
“Really?”
She nodded, arms crossed. “So there.”
His mouth puckered into a little smile. “What are we, twelve?”
“Look, I just hate it when people think ballet isn’t a legitimate sport.” She turned around and pointed to her back. “See my muscles? They didn’t get there by accident.”
She spun back around, and she saw how he swallowed. Her leotard might have a low back with its twist-back detail and open cutouts, but it was way more modest than some of the outfits some of the other dancers had worn yesterday. But maybe he wasn’t used to noticing a woman’s back. “Was there anything else?”
He scuffed the floor with his dance shoe. There’d been no complaints about wearing them today.
“What is it?”
He glanced up. “Can you ice-skate?”
* * *
“No, no, no! This is such a dumb idea!”
He laughed, holding onto Bailey’s hands. “Come on. You can trust me. I’m not going to let you fall.”
He followed her glance at where Ella and the guys were filming, this little adventure on the ice “exactly what we love to see” as Ella had said.
He hoped it would prove to be, that he wouldn’t drop Bailey. She might have poise for miles on the dance floor, but she hadn’t yet managed to figure out how to balance on skates. And the fact that she hadn’t, that she was stumbling at something he felt was as natural as breathing, made him feel a little better about his failings on the dance floor.
The jive was kicking his butt. His big butt, thanks Marco. But here, when he and the ice were almost as one, was a lot better.
He held Bailey’s hands, using his upper body strength to boost hers, and said, “Look up at me.” She tentatively did, her eyes finding, holding his. “You can trust me.”
She gulped, and the moment suddenly morphed into another of those weird ones where he and she seemed to connect more deeply, and a wave of something indescribable seemed to pass between them. He was almost tempted to try to dance with her out here, to do one of those spins they’d practiced that looked so cool on the dance floor, like ice dancers did at the Olympics, but her fears about falling and maybe twisting something made him pause. He didn’t want to break his promise to her.
Anyway, it was enough that she was close, almost in his arms as he skated backwards around the practice facility the team used. Their usual arena had reverted back to use as a concert venue, which meant this was the best place he could find relative privacy on a summer’s evening in Winnipeg.
“Want to have another try?” he asked.
“I just don’t want to fall.”
“How about I skate you to the side, then hold your hand. I promise, I won’t let anything happen to you.”
“Promise?”
He nodded, throat dry.
He skated her to the boards, and she grasped it tight, then squeezed his right hand in her left. “Now, push with your right leg, imagine you’re gliding along the dance floor, and I’m Marco. ‘I want you to be light on your feet, let’s see you gliding, Bailey’,” he said in a terrible Italian accent that drew her smile. “Hey, that’s it.”
She glanced down and wobbled. “Luc!”
“I got you. You’re safe. Don’t look down. Look ahead. That’s what you’re always telling me, right? No looking down or at my feet.”
She exhaled shakily. “I’m glad to know that some of what I’ve said is sinking in.”
“You’d be surprised at just how much.”
Bailey peeked at him, and he shook his head. “Uh-uh. Straight ahead.”
She obeyed.
He swallowed a snicker at her scared look. If he was a wussy man, he’d call that look adorable. “Am I allowed to say I’m kinda surprised a local gal has never learned to skate?”
“No.”
He didn’t bother to hide the laughter this time.
“Don’t laugh at me. I don’t laugh at you, do I?”
“Oh, you do, Bails. All the time.”
Her smile poked out. “That’s because you’re funny.”
He was? “Do you mean that in a good way, or like you think I’m weird?”
Her lips pulled wider, and she opened her mouth—
“Don’t answer that.”
She giggled, the sound warming his heart. “In a good way. Honestly, for such a tough guy, you seem awfully insecure sometimes.”
“I’m not insecure,” he insisted. “I just really want to know what other people think of me all the time.”
She smiled, then peeked at him again. “Well, I think you’re pretty great.”
Her words walloped his chest, and before he knew it, he’d slipped, his backside pounding the ice. “Ow!”
She grabbed hold of the boards, laughing.
“It’s not funny,” he complained, rubbing his backside. He hadn’t planned on falling, and these jeans held none of the protective elements he usually wore on the ice.
“I’m sorry,” she said, looking anything but. She held out a hand. “Do you need help getting up?”
He was so tempted to “accidentally” pull her down into his arms. He looked at her hand, then back up at her, saw the way her eyes widened, then she dropped her hand and tried to move backwards. “Luc, don’t…”
“Luc?”
Luc’s stomach tensed. He recognized that voice. He peeked over his shoulder and quickly scrambled to his feet as Sean Hart skated closer.
After a few harder-than-necessary backslaps hello, Luc glanced at Bailey, who held a nervous smile. “Hey Bailey. This is Sean, who I used to play with. Sean, this is Bailey Donovan.”
Sean’s eyes widened and he grinned. “Your dance partner, huh? Well, hello Bailey.” His gaze trickled down her snug pink sweater and slender legs encased in jeans.
Luc clenched his hands, and moved to place a protective arm around her. “We’re just taking a break from rehearsals.”
“Is that so? Didn’t look like all you were doing.”
Bailey nestled closer to Luc’s side, and murmured, “Um, if you want to talk with him, I’m totally okay with that.”
“You don’t want to skate anymore?”
She winced. “You know I appreciate this, but I really can’t skate without you.”
“Maybe you just need a better teacher,” Sean said.
Luc took Bailey’s hands. “Sorry, she’s with me, and we still have work to do.”
“We do?” she murmured.
“One hundred percent,” he muttered back.
No way did she need to spend a second longer in the company of the man the team had privately called Casanova. The man had more notches on his bedpost than Luc had hot dinners. His involvement in the betting scandal last year had apparently also seen his name linked to a few even less savory things, including rumors of violence against a prostitute. Luc had had a few run-ins with Sean before, and as the man didn’t fit the family culture the team was striving for, it’d been good to see him go.
“Catch you around,” Luc said. Like hopefully never.
“Keep practicing, dude. You look like you need it.”
“Wow,” Bailey said, as Luc drew her away. “He doesn’t like you much, does he?”
“Sean and I always had differences of opinions about how to treat other people.”
“Let me guess. You called him out for how he treated women.”
He glanced at her quickly. “You could tell?”
“Please. I wasn’t born yesterday. It might surprise you to learn this but some dancers can have narcissistic qualities.”
“No way!”
“Way.” She grinned.
He couldn’t help it. That smile pummeled straight into his chest, and made him do crazy things. So he scooped her up in both arms, to her shriek of laughter, which instantly drew every eye to them. Including Ella’s, who stopped what looked like an interview with Sean to focus on them. So he did what he’d wanted to do earlier, spinning around with Bailey in his arms, her arm around his neck, her chest pressed close to his, then slowly lowering her to the ice again.
She fanned herself. “Oh my goodness, Luc. You need to warn a girl before doing something like that.”
“Would you have said yes?”
“Probably not.”
“Are you glad I did?”
Her lips puckered, and he wished they were somewhere private where he could learn if that was a signal for a kiss. “Maybe.”
He grinned, his heart thudding with happiness. “You want to try that spin move we practiced earlier out here on the ice?”
“No! I can’t even skate in a straight line properly, let alone do something like that.”
“You just need to hold onto me. Like I said, I won’t let you fall.”
She bit her lip, and he could tell she was considering it. And she looked up at him. “Do you promise?”
“I care about you, Bails. I’ll always take good care of you.”
She looked deep into his eyes, then finally nodded. He held her hand, drawing her away from the boards, then clasped both of her hands together in both of his. “Trust me?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
He smiled, then slowly spun with her forearms in the trapeze grip she’d taught him. He built up speed until she gasped and slipped, one leg off the ice, then two, her grip sliding until she was holding onto his hands for dear life. But other than it being on ice, it was exactly as they’d practiced: him holding her, her beautiful hair splaying out, and Luc feeling that strange sense of power and joy at the center of it all. He slowed, then before they lost too much momentum, lowered her gently so she slid slowly near the boards.
Applause broke out behind him, and he glanced back to see Ella and Sean watching, the cameras on them still. He grinned, then skated to collect Bailey, who was flapping a hand at her cheeks, her broad grin saying she’d enjoyed that as much as he had. “You okay down there?”
“Apart from my tush getting cold.”
“We can’t have that now, can we?” He stretched out a hand and gracefully pulled her up. Then he gestured to their little audience. “Do you think you can manage a bow?”
“Maybe.”
He held her firm as she curtsied while he took a bow.
Then he helped her to the side, holding her hand as they found the guards and put them on. “Was that fun?”
“So fun.” Her cheeks were glowing, her eyes sparkling. “I was so tired before but this has been amazing. Thanks for bringing me here.”
“Now we just have to get you to a game one day.”
“Maybe.”
He leaned closer. “Definitely.”
She patted his chest. “We’ll see.”
He wrapped her hand in his, keeping it firm against his chest. “What would it take for you to say yes?”
She tilted her head. Then smiled.
“What?”
“You mean apart from winning the final?”
“Bribery and corruption, huh?”
“I prefer to call it motivation to do well.”
“Hey, I know all about that. I’ve seen the stash of chocolate treats you keep for the kids in your studio. I still think it’s unfair you haven’t offered one to me.”
“To bribe you?”
He smiled, drawing closer still. “I prefer to call it motivation to do well.”
She laughed. “Well, if winning the final is too hard to get me to a game, maybe we could aim for something a little more achievable.”
“Like what?” Would them intentionally spending time together in a non-rehearsal way count as a date? Did this count as a date? He’d give anything to get to know this woman more. To spend more time in her company. “You name it, and I’m there.”
In the echo of that, he had a funny realization that he’d said something very similar not too long ago. And look what had happened since.
“A movie,” she said.
“You want to watch a movie with me?” That had to count as a date, right?
She nodded. “Get through to the next round, and we’ll watch a movie, and I’ll come to one of your games.”
He held out his hand. “Put it there. You got yourself a deal.”
She took his hand, her small hand looking absurdly small in his large rough one.
“I can’t wait. When and where?”
Her smile grew. “If we get through next week’s round, then I’ll tell you. How is that for motivation?”
He grinned. “Perfect.”