Chapter 14
CHAPTER 14
M onday morning Bailey entered the studio and found Ella and the crew waiting. “Oh! Are we late?”
“Nope. We’re just early.” Ella grinned. “We figured you two might be running a little behind time after celebrating last night.”
Bailey smiled up at Luc. “You did so well.”
“Two eights, Bails. Two! I was praying for one, but we got two!”
The highlight of last night: when John, the technical judge, had said Luc’s rise and fall had looked effortless and her choreography was amazing. Well, that, and when their last lift had worked, ending in the dramatic fish dive used by ballet dancers in everything from The Nutcracker to Sleeping Beauty , where she ended with her nose mere centimeters from the floor. She was very glad that had worked. That Luc’s promise to never let her fall had held true.
“I was so relieved,” she admitted. And relieved to see her bank balance had increased substantially this morning. “Especially after barely dancing together last week.”
“Well, you looked beautiful. Like you were wearing a pink cloud filled with diamonds. Don’t you agree, Luc?”
Bailey glanced at him, catching his proud look. “She always looks beautiful, but yeah, I think that was your best look yet.”
Aww. She placed her hand over her heart, but his words touched her. She had thought she looked her nicest, too. “The costume and makeup crew did a fantastic job.”
“Right? The way they get those costumes whipped up, and yet they still allow for movement? I’ve been involved with this production for a few years now, but I’m always impressed. So how is your toe this morning?” Ella asked.
“It’s still attached.” She kicked off her scuff and showed them, and as expected, they grimaced.
“You’re so hard-core,” Ella said.
“Really hard-core,” Luc agreed.
Gladness heated her chest. It felt good to impress the tough hockey man in this way. She’d felt that same approval when he’d introduced her to his friends on the weekend. She’d enjoyed meeting them and discovering how normal and easygoing they all were, and she’d thought his meeting her family had gone smoothly too. She wasn’t sure if he’d won her dad’s approval—her father was a little more conservative about full-sleeve tattoos than some—but Luc’s forthrightness seemed to win them over. Which still felt weird. Like they were a couple but not quite yet. Still, having knocked out the football player last night, and with a samba to perform this week, they’d see whether they could make it to the following week’s final.
“So,” she faced Luc, “this week we do the samba.”
“Let me guess; this is one of the Latin ones, right?”
“You’re so smart!”
“You’re so sarcastic,” he mocked back, drawing her smile. Then he winked. “Is this one of the sexy ones?”
She winced. She was glad her folks had been here for her beautiful gown ensemble. Dad would have a fit if he saw what the producers had picked out for her to wear this week. It was definitely her most revealing one yet, basically a green and orange rhinestone bikini top and the tiniest skirt that seemed to consist mostly of green feathers. Apparently they wanted her to amp up the sexy moves as well. Awesome. “Look, have you ever seen the scantily-clad women who do the carnival parades in Brazil?”
“Not in person.”
“But you know what I mean?” He nodded. “Well, that’s like a traditional samba. We’re doing a version of that, so think short skirts, lots of hip action and wiggling, tight dance formations. It’s pretty technical too.”
“Have we got lifts?”
“Not as many as you’d like. Maybe one or two.”
“What do I wear?”
“I kind of feel like this needs to be your week for slicked-back hair and for showing off your abs.”
He grimaced.
“Look, if we’re going to get through to the finals then we need to give the viewers something special. And I’m not above using ab appeal to get some votes.”
“You’re so shallow.”
“Apparently I am.”
“I love it.”
Her chest constricted, and she turned away, exhaling slowly. He loved it. Not her. It was too soon to talk like that. And he wouldn’t say something like that when they were being filmed. Would he?
She sucked down some water, hoping it might pour sense to her brain. “Okay, are you ready to get started?”
“Are you dancing with me, or are you resting that toe?”
She wrinkled her nose. “Look, as much as I would like to demonstrate the steps with you, after yesterday, I think I’m better off resting if that’s okay.”
“Whatever you need is fine with me.”
What she needed was a cold shower, and not just because Toronto’s muggy heat was making her sweat when it was barely ten in the morning. How was she supposed to keep her cool when Luc would be wiggling his hips at her all day? Maybe she would be better off standing up so she didn’t have to focus on that.
“On second thoughts, let’s give it a go here. Now turn to the mirror, and I want you to wiggle.”
“Wiggle?”
She nodded. “Pivot from side to side, but let the action come from your hips and not your shoulders.”
She swallowed a smile as he tried. “Okay. Not thrusting but shifting. This dance really works the hip flexors, and the back, and your hammies, so you’ll likely feel a little sore at the end.”
“Awesome.”
She chuckled. “Come on. Shake that thing.”
“This big butt?”
“You’re gonna have to forgive Marco one day.”
“One day. Not to -day.”
“Come on. Back to it. It’s time to focus. Let’s samba, baby!”
Sunday
For a couple who weren’t a couple—yet—a samba was not a great dance. She should’ve tweaked it more, maybe toned down some of the movements to make sure he got it, but despite his impressive abs on show in that open shirt, she could tell they weren’t going to score well tonight.
Luc’s rhythm was off, and as she grasped his hand and did her-back-to-his-front samba shadow reverse rolls—one of the characteristic movements in this dance—she could sense his timing was behind by a half-beat, like he’d been stunned by her outfit and hadn’t quite caught up yet. It was revealing, and she really didn’t like how these spangled straps kept trying to slide off her shoulders.
Maybe it was more of a sexy dance than she’d realized. But it wasn’t like he hadn’t seen her abs before, or that he hadn’t touched her bare waist. Maybe he was struggling with some of the moves because they’d admitted to wanting a relationship one day. He’d complained earlier this week in practice when she’d slid her hand to his hip then to his upper thigh. He’d thought that too sexy. She wondered what he’d say if they made it to next week and did the tango as they’d been allocated.
Still, the bounce and intricate rhythms, along with the high energy and performance, were things he needed to nail if they were to get through. He just needed to shift his head, so she could do this high kick as they’d planned. In three, two, one. “Now.”
He swerved, and she kicked high as his head shimmied away. She just missed his ear, then she swiveled to face the front to go into a whisk step then a splits lift sequence. He went to grasp her upper arms, missing, grabbing the top of her dress instead, right where the spangles were.
Time slowed, the spangled straps snapping, flinging off like a diamond whip as she completed the movement. No! But the show had to go on, including the last promenade sequence followed by a triple pirouette where she really hoped the fashion tape was working. This was a family-friendly show after all. She only had to complete the last spin, move into the last dip, then the jump and dive. Please Lord, let him catch me! A half-beat of wrong timing could lead to a bloody nose. She spun, saw his concentration as she jumped, and dived, and he caught her, mere inches from slamming into the floor. She glanced down. Her chest was still covered with fabric. And partly by his fingers. Oh no. That would definitely be a bad look. Although it could’ve been worse. Thank goodness the tape still worked.
The music ended, and he swung her up, hugging her, his face in her neck. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what happened there.”
She shook her head. “It’s okay. It’s over.” She hugged him harder. And unless there was a spectacular fail from one of the remaining couples, they’d just danced their last dance.
* * *
“Luc, darling,” Marco sighed and shook his head, “I hate to say this, because last week I was so impressed by your improvement, but tonight, my friend, I really think it showed that it’s time to hang up your dancing shoes and get back to your skates.”
Luc winced, as his grip on Bailey’s hand tightened. He knew he’d failed her, that she wouldn’t get her ten thousand bucks for making next week’s final. He’d tried, but ever since the wiggling exercise of day one of samba rehearsals he’d struggled. Struggled not to want to take this further. Struggled with wondering if she meant it when her hand had wandered to his hip. Struggled even more when he’d seen her in her costume that left so little to the imagination. He knew she had to choreograph according to the theme, but her movements were so distracting. Of course, it would be so much easier if they were married and she could wiggle like that for him in the privacy of their own home. His heart clenched.
“I don’t know where your head was at but it didn’t seem to be here tonight. Your musicality was all over the place, you missed your beats, you had poor Bailey trying to carry you along. Hats off to you Bailey, but I think we all know tonight you’ve reached the end.”
Luc winced, catching Bailey’s nod and shrug of resignation. Good news: they could be a couple now. Bad news: he’d disappointed her.
“Oh, now, let’s not get too hasty,” Cynthia said. “I’m prepared to add an extra point simply for the suave slicked-back hair that made you look very handsome. And another point for the shirtlessness. Thank you very much for that, Luc.”
He grimaced. Good to see double standards in ogling wasn’t a thing. Still, an extra point meant the humiliation of a spray tan was almost worth it. No way would he ever admit to the guys he’d done that .
“And Bailey,” Cynthia continued, “I just want to commend you for pushing through, even with that wardrobe malfunction. I know how hard that can be, and I’m glad it didn’t get any worse.”
So was he. Poor Bails.
“Look, I can appreciate what Bailey was trying to do with that routine,” John said, “but I’m afraid I agree with Marco here. There’s only so much one can do with a lump of dead wood—”
The crowd booed. Wait. He was talking about Luc?
“—and I fear that Bailey has done her best, but I’m afraid there’ll be no more crafting anything from poor Luc.”
Bailey hung her head.
“I’m really sorry, Bails.”
She nodded, lifting her chin.
Jenna shoved the microphone in their faces. “Have you got anything you’d like to say, Luc?”
He glanced at Bailey. He could tell from the way her smile had no sparkle that she was really disappointed. But it didn’t have to be the end. They might be receiving low scores, but there was still the public vote to try and win over.
He picked up Bailey’s hand and kissed it. She froze, as if wondering what he was doing. He might be wondering that himself, too, but right now, although he might be going rogue, this felt like the moment to try and win the public support. And if his abs couldn’t do it, then he’d do whatever else it took. “I’m pretty sure everybody knows that the fact I’m standing up here at all is all due to Bailey’s hard work. She’s a rock star, and I love dancing with her, and I’d love the chance to dance one more time. At least to leave you all with a better impression than what I gave tonight.”
“Are you saying you’ve got more moves left in the tank?”
He slapped his chest twice and pointed as he looked straight down the camera. “I’ve got more moves. And I’d love your vote to show you what I’ve got.”
“That sounds like a plea to stay,” Jenna said, to the crowd’s cheers. “Well, if you want to see Luc shake that thing with Bailey one more time, viewers you know what you have to do. So when the lines open, make sure you’re voting. Okay, let’s give it up one more time for Luc Blanchard and Bailey Donovan.”
He smiled, waved, and walked off, clutching Bailey’s hand as they moved up the stairs to the skybox. She let go, readjusting her top, retying her spangled straps around her neck. “Bails, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to grab you there.”
“Like I said back in week one, stuff happens.”
But it shouldn’t have happened like that. Not on national TV. He could bet what her father would say. He’d likely want to get a gun and shoot him. As for what his teammates would be saying, what they would say as soon as he faced them after this… He’d had a few show up unexpectedly tonight. Which was awesome. Not.
They now had to join Peter in the skybox, and he and Bailey pasted on instant grins.
“Luc and Bailey, not the performance you were hoping for, especially when you’re so close to finals now.”
Luc bent closer to Peter’s microphone. “You’re right. I’d hate to miss the finals because I messed up. Bailey is amazing, and I’d love you all to see what she’s got planned for me for next week’s dance.”
“Two dances next week, if you get there of course.”
Two? Bailey hadn’t said anything. He glanced at her quickly. Judging from her expression that she quickly smoothed into a smile, maybe she hadn’t known.
“Alright, well. We’ve heard the judges’ comments. Now it’s time to get their scores.”
He wrapped his arm around her, hugging her close.
“Five.”
“Four.”
“Three.”
“Thunderbirds are go,” he muttered. As would he be. Going, that was.
“Well,” Jenna said from down on the dance floor, “that gives a final total of twelve, which puts Luc at the bottom of the leaderboard with only one couple to go.”
He hugged her. “I’m really sorry, Bails.”
She shook her head, as Peter commiserated. “It’s okay.”
No, it wasn’t. As the camera cut to the break he flashed open his shirt a little more and winked. Cynthia had seemed to like his open shirt. Man, he was shallow.
“You can stop doing that,” Bailey murmured.
“What? I’m trying to get the votes.”
She looked defeated.
“Bails?”
She descended the stairs to get a drink of water. “Look, I’m sorry the choreography was too hard.”
“It wasn’t that. It was just a little too sexy.” For him to keep things platonic and professional, that is.
She glanced up at him. “I’m really sorry.”
“It wasn’t you. Well, I suppose it was your choreography, but you were just following what the producers wanted, right?”
She nodded. “My dad won’t be happy.”
Luc winced. No, he wouldn’t. He bet from some angles it might’ve even looked like Luc had grabbed Bailey’s chest. Which he hadn’t. Just the top of her top when he’d missed the catch. After he’d accidentally snapped her strap and sent it whipping away. At least he’d still caught her at the end, and she hadn’t kissed the floor.
She sighed.
“What?”
“I forgot until Peter mentioned it that in the final each couple is supposed to do two dances. We’d been allocated a contemporary.”
“What’s that?”
“A freestyle kind of dance, where you can basically pick your own music and moves, which means you can do the ones that showcase your strengths.”
Like his lifts. “That sounds fun. So, what’s the other one?”
“The tango.”
No way. “Is that the really sexy one?”
She nodded.
Man. Now he really wanted the votes so they could get through.
“The producers thought a James Bond theme would be fun, which apparently means amping up the appeal for the viewer.”
“I like James Bond. Even though the dude always seemed to go through too many women.”
“Yeah, well, I think they were wanting me as your Bond girl, which would’ve meant some moves where my mom might’ve had to cover my dad’s eyes.”
“He doesn’t like the sexy stuff, huh?”
“I think he struggles seeing his little girl do stuff like that. Ballet wasn’t the same as ballroom, in that regard.” She sighed. “I have to admit, it’s kind of weird being a Christian on this kind of show and trying to be sexy without being too sexy if you know what I mean.”
Oh, he knew what she meant. Which was why he hadn’t coped with her hand on his hip. If they got any sexier next week he might combust on stage. Then the votes would come in. Or there’d be calls to ban him from dancing ever again.
“Let’s just wait and see what happens with this last dance.”
But he knew Miranda, the country singer, would get through. He’d seen them during rehearsals, during their show-and-tell performance, and he knew they’d be okay. Their quickstep to a Supremes song was fun, although he was really glad to not have to do such a high energy dance again. He probably did need to be careful not to lose much more weight.
He joined the other couples, watching Miranda do her moves, knowing she had a jump that was pretty spectacular, that they’d nailed in every rehearsal. His heart was tight with regret at his failures, and he peeked at Bailey again. Was there some way he and she could keep dancing? Doing this show had opened his eyes to so many things, and he didn’t want to leave yet. Lord? Is there any way —?
“Oh!”
A collective gasp filled the room, and his gaze jerked back to the floor, where Miranda had just fallen with a resounding smack.
“Ow.” He winced, felt Bailey’s shudder next to him.
At least he’d never dropped her—and he wasn’t even the professional.
The singer was peeled off the floor by her partner, Tim, but the blood made it obvious the dance had to end, and they waited, hoping, praying she’d be okay.
“You guys might still have a chance,” Coco murmured from beside them. “Although Miranda may get a big sympathy vote.”
Was it wrong to hope she didn’t?
They waited as the medics checked Miranda, then pronounced her okay, which drew a big sigh of relief from the studio audience and within the green room. Then the judges’ scores were read out, and sure enough, Miranda and Tim had scored three points more than Luc. He sighed. He had no idea whether the judges’ votes were worth that much of a difference compared to the public vote, but it would be interesting to see.
The voting lines were opened, and they had a quick touch-up of makeup and Bailey got an emergency re-stitch of her costume, while the production assistants raced around. Then they were called to the stage, the four couples remaining, and he gripped Bailey’s hand.
“Our first couple safe tonight, and through to next week’s final is Jason and his partner Coco.”
No surprises there. He joined the applause for the couple who truly were the best tonight. He fully expected them to win the whole thing.
“Our next couple safe from elimination is… Fiona and Dominic.”
That was hardly surprising. The actress was also an influencer with a rabid support base.
“Which leaves our bottom two couples: Luc and Bailey, and Miranda and Tim, who suffered that very unfortunate slip in the last few moments of their routine. Can I have both couples join me down here please.”
Luc held Bailey’s hand and carefully drew her to stand beside Jenna.
“Luc and Miranda, can I say it’s been a real pleasure to have you both join us, and I’m very sorry that tonight we have to say goodbye to one of you.” There was a pause, and Jenna looked at her notes, glanced at Luc then at Miranda, then nodded, as the deep tones of the drumroll filled the room. “And now, with the tightest margin we’ve had in years, the scores have been tallied, the votes have been added in, and I’m very sorry to say, the couple that is leaving us tonight… is…”
Luc hung his head. How he wished…
“—Miranda and Tim!”
Huh?
The crowd erupted. Then Bailey was hugging him, jumping into his arms as she screamed. “We made it!”
“What?”
“We’re through to the final!”
They were?
He glanced at the other couple, who weren’t looking too hot, and he shook their hands, avoiding kissing Miranda’s cheek which he figured was probably still sore from before. Then while Jenna was closing the show, he pulled Bailey into a corner, one arm around her waist, one cradling her head as he bent to kiss her—
Whoa.
He pulled back at the last minute, her eyes wide with shock. “Luc, people are watching.”
Oh. Shoot. So they were. He kissed her cheek instead, savoring her nearness, then drew her into a close hug, her body flush against his. And as his hands slid down her back to those tiny feathers near her butt, he could feel how the song they were supposed to dance to before was made for people who hugged like this.
“Ah, excuse me for interrupting.”
He broke away, pivoting to see the stage was now filled with reporters. Dang. Who would have seen that? He sure hoped her father hadn’t.
“Luc Blanchard. Looks like you and Bailey are really relieved to be getting through to next week’s final.”
He swallowed. Man, he could do with a cold shower about now. Or maybe a bucketload of ice. He nodded at the ET reporter. “I don’t know if I can ever express how grateful I am for people’s votes. I know I let Bailey down, and I really want to make it up to her next week.”
“Rumor has it that you’re hoping it’s a sexy dance, am I right?” She winked. “Looks like you were getting some moves in just now. Care to comment, Bailey?”
Bailey grinned, but Luc could tell her smile wasn’t really real. “I, um…”
“Yeah, it’s true,” Luc said.
The reporter’s eyes widened.
“I mean about me hoping it’s a tango or rumba or something cool like that. Tonight was a bit quick for me, so I’m hoping I can slay with some boss moves next week.”
“I see. Care to comment on the other? Are you hoping for some boss moves off the dance floor as well?”
“Look, as we’ve been saying all week, we’ve become really good friends and we are enjoying hanging out together. People can read into that what they want. Bailey is a professional and I’m just doing what Bailey wants me to do.”
“And do you care to respond to that, Bailey?”
Bailey’s smile was tight. “Not at this time, no.”
The interviews continued, but his energy was flagging, and so, apparently, was hers. He’d expected his accidental after-show-end move to get some interest, but hadn’t expected this much.
“Luc, you seemed so relieved like you wanted to kiss Bailey,” the Toronto Life female reporter said.
“It’s a shock for sure. But like I said before, I know Bailey deserves a shot at showing everyone what she’s got. If she can make this hunk of dead wood dance, then she can work miracles for anyone.”
“Well, I have to say hunk is right,” another reporter said. “Can I hear an ‘Amen’, ladies? Now, can we be expecting more costumes like this next week?”
“You’ll have to wait and see.” Luc grinned at the camera.
The interviews went on, then it was time for the postshow party at an upmarket restaurant.
“We don’t do this all the time,” Coco said, as they walked to the private room. “Only for those couples who make it through to the final.”
And he and Bailey were one of them. He felt so giddy he could almost collapse. Somehow, somehow, by God’s good grace they’d made it this far. He grabbed Bailey and drew her to an alcove. “Can I say again how grateful I am for you? We’re going to the final, Bailey. Are you excited?” He really thought she’d look more excited than this. “You get more money, too, now, don’t you?”
She nodded, her gaze not meeting his.
“What’s wrong?”
She shook her head.
“No, don’t do that thing where you pretend nothing is wrong. I want to know. I need to know. I thought you’d be more excited but you look like I’ve done something wrong again.”
“You tried to kiss me, Luc, on national TV.”
“I was excited. And hey, I know going through means we can’t kiss yet, but I forgot myself for a moment.”
“I know.” She placed a hand on his shirt. “I just am a little concerned about how others might see it.”
“They might think we’re dating, and that’s a good thing, right? That’s what Poppy suggested, wasn’t it? That if they think we are dating, they’re more likely to want to vote for us and see us through.”
She nodded. “I know that, but it’s not the general public I’m concerned about.”
“Then who? The producers?”
“My dad.”
Oh. Her father. Who had looked at him askance last week. His guts tensed. How was he going to explain the accidental dress grab and almost-kiss to her father?