The Waltz. Georgia HillЧитать онлайн книгу.
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.”
At that, Daniel gathered up his glass and two packets of nuts and disappeared in the direction of the show’s harshest judge.
Lucy didn’t know where to look. She couldn’t look to her left as she hadn’t got her face under control yet. Instead she stared at the pile of crisps and nuts that Daniel had left. She felt her tummy give a furious growl. She inched her pint nearer and took a tiny sip. It was deliciously cool so she took another.
There was a very long and very awkward pause.
Somewhere to her left she heard Max clear his throat.
“Don’t drink much really,” he said. He had a nice voice, light with the slightest touch of the north.
There was another pause.
“What with all the training I usually do, it doesn’t fit in.”
Lucy willed herself to say something. Something witty. Something funny. Blimey, it shouldn’t be that hard, she was a writer after all.
“N-no, I’m sure it doesn’t.”
Was that it? Was that the best she could come up with? She dropped her head slightly and let her hair hide her face. Oh God, this was embarrassing. To have these strong feelings descend on you was so inconvenient. And then to have to face the subject of your crush in person was simply mortifying. Get a grip. He’s gay, she reminded herself, and he’s just trying to be friendly, so make an effort. She blew her fringe out of her eyes and twisted on the stool, tensing herself to finally meet his eyes. But she needn’t have worried as Max was staring into the distance, his drink untouched. Oh, but he was so beautiful she thought, a little incoherently. Given this rare opportunity to stare at close quarters, she gazed greedily. His thin face had a strong forehead and deeply set eyes. An aquiline nose swooped down to a firmly shaped mouth that had full, sensual looking lips. His hair was that lovely colour somewhere between blonde and brown and reminded her of the butterscotch Angel Delight she’d always had for childhood Sunday teas. It was cut savagely short in the way some gay men adopt and curled tightly against his head. Lucy felt her mouth drop open and hoped she wasn’t drooling.
Max must have