The Rumba
Georgia Hill
~For fans of reality dance shows, this series is strictly irresistible!Slip on some dance shoes and step up to love!Who Dares Dances is a reality TV show with a difference. Not only do contestants have to learn to dance, they also face a series of bizarre challenges.Julia Cooper signs up in a bid to revive her flagging acting career. But when she meets dare-devil TV presenter Harri Morgan the attraction is instant – and hot!Forced to perform a sexy rumba together, the sequins really start to fly. Will they score the perfect ten, or is their romance destined to be a dance disaster?Find out in Say it with Sequins, the first in a series of three novellas.
Say it with Sequins
The Rumba
Georgia Hill
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First published in Great Britain by HarperImpulse 2013
Copyright © Georgia Hill
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Ebook Edition © December 2013
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Contents
Copyright (#u51861eee-b94f-5f55-bedf-6dce84791092)
Georgia Hill (#u4f8f4170-6540-528a-9a18-9e1066ea92ed)
Dedication (#ue093a1c9-0086-5208-95d1-63e3610c93dd)
Say it with Sequins. The Rumba: a dance full of passion. (#ue2a0080e-232d-5f8b-a509-b5632eb4dac4)
Step One.
Step Two.
Step Three.
Step Four.
Step Five.
Step Six.
Step Seven.
Step Eight.
Step Nine.
Step Ten.
Step Eleven.
Step Twelve.
Step Thirteen.
Step Fourteen.
Step Fifteen.
Love Romance? (#litres_trial_promo)
About HarperImpulse (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
Georgia Hill (#uca7ce53a-9438-50d2-ac47-2af027737cfc)
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!
For mum, who loved to jitterbug.
Say it with Sequins. The Rumba: a dance full of passion. (#uca7ce53a-9438-50d2-ac47-2af027737cfc)
“The rumba is my favourite dance; it’s really sexy. It gives you a great excuse to get up close and personal with your partner!” Bob Dandry, Executive Producer and Director, Who Dares, Dances.
Step One.
“You can do this!” she said in her head.
Julia Cooper, not yet star of stage and screen, bit her lip and tried to follow her own advice – and her partner’s lead. Trouble was, when you were a novice and dancing with a monosyllabic and bad-tempered hulk of a Russian, it wasn’t easy to pick up the steps. Or should that be steppes? Julia giggled and muttered her mantra again, “Concentrate, you can do this!”
“What?” said the Russian hulk from somewhere above her. “What you say? No, Julia. Have told you. Like this!”
For the umpteenth time that day, Julia wondered just what she had got herself into. Who Dares Dances was supposed to be a fun dance competition come reality show, wasn’t it? She was supposed to be having fun!
“We’d better raise a barrel load of money to make this worth it,” she mumbled, as she was swung round so hard her neck ricked. She’d never worked so hard in her life. The charity, Pennies for Pencils, for which the show raised money,had better be grateful.
“Julia! Have told you. Like this. Concentrate!”
“That’s just what I’ve been telling myself, Jan.” Julia looked up at her partner with a bright smile. “But it doesn’t seem to be working. Can we stop now? Don’t we need to get ready for the launch party?” She made a hopeful face, which was completely lost on the Russian.
“Pah! Party!” he spat. “We must work, work, work. Have much to learn. Stand up. Chin to left. More. More! Count in head.”
“One, two, buckle my shoe,” Julia began and it sounded facetious, even to herself. But she really was exhausted. They’d been practising since eight that morning.
“One, two, three, one. two, three,” Jan inevitably corrected her in his harsh way and they stumbled round the room one more time.
Julia gritted her teeth and did her best to stand straight, hold her head at the right angle, keep her elbows up and remember her steps. Who would have thought learning how to waltz could be so hard!
***
The launch party was in full swing by the time Harri got there. Filming had overrun and he was late as usual. And, as usual, he hated it. He was a man who’d been brought up to be on time. Nowadays he seemed to be constantly chasing his rear and life was never less than hectic.
He loved fronting the children’s TV show most of the time though. In the three years he’d presented it, he’d been all around the world, had done the most incredible death defying stunts, had met and interviewed some of the most famous people in the world. He was one lucky bloke. Fizz TV had set up Red Pepper as a direct rival to Blue Peter and it was gradually getting more and more popular. Harri had thought at one time he might have a go at getting the big job – Blue Peter itself - but peculiar though it seemed to him, at thirty-one he was getting too old for the plum role. But still here he was, an ordinary guy, Harri Morgan from Swansea, who had struck lucky. He knew his looks had helped but he hoped it was more than that, he hoped he was thought of as someone with genuine talent. He’d certainly worked his way up the hard way, spending six years in the niche world of Welsh television learning his craft.
So why, if he was happy with his career, had he agreed to this? To Fizz TV’s dance show? When the suggestion had come from his agent, he’d been mildly interested, had never watched the programme but he knew of it and knew it raised millions for charity. When he’d signed up, he thought he’d treat it as another physical challenge, just like learning to fly a jet, or bungee jumping off the San Francisco Bridge. He liked learning new physical skills and it would show his mates back home in Swansea that he could dance after all.
In his heart though, he knew he’d taken this on for another reason. His life expectancy as a children’s TV presenter was running out and it was notoriously difficult to make the transition to adult TV. Producers seemed to think that if you worked with, and for, young children you had the intellect to match. Harri knew he had a lot more to offer, it was just that he didn’t know what it was or how to achieve it. The invitation to do Who Dares Dances seemed to be the answer. He could have a go at a new challenge, and get himself noticed by a completely different audience.
So far it had been, well, interesting. He’d spent four weeks in training with Eva, his Swedish professional dance partner, and it was a lot tougher than he expected. He wasn’t sure why. He could pick up the steps pretty easily, his rugby and fencing training helped with the footwork, but he just couldn’t get into it somehow. Since the cocaine fiasco on another well known children’s TV show a few years ago, the producers of Red Pepper had upped the censor code on the programme and on its presenters. They had even gone as far as forcing him to sign a ‘no personal relationships’ clause with any of the other dancers in Who Dares Dances. He’d always had to conduct any relationship with complete discretion beforehand and now he was in an even worse situation. Any whiff of scandal or smut, and he’d be summarily dismissed. He knew it had taken that infamous children’s presenter years to get his career back on track and Harri didn’t want to risk the same. So he felt uncomfortable mixing his kid’s TV persona with the blatantly erotic things Eva expected him to do.
He grabbed a drink from a passing tray and sipped the warm white wine thoughtfully. He grimaced, it didn’t do the job like a pint of Brains bitter but it would help him unwind. He didn’t seem to have the time to catch his breath nowadays. Was he getting old? Was he losing the hunger for all of this? He hoped not. He didn’t know what else he could do.
***
Julia spotted Harri come in from the corner of her eye. Half listening to what a fellow competitor was saying, she saw him making his way around the edge of the party. She liked the way his nose crinkled up as he tasted the wine – it was vile – and then she watched as he got into an animated conversation with Callum, the enormous Scottish prop forward. Talking about rugby no doubt – or trashing England. Funny how the Welsh and the Scots had those two things in common.
She giggled. The wine may taste foul but she’d hardly eaten anything all day and it was going to her head. She put her half-empty glass down on the table behind her.
“Revolting isn’t it?” Fellow actress, Lavinia Smart, sidled up to her and did the same. “You can tell it’s not the beeb, can’t you? These new TV channels just don’t seem to get things quite right. I can’t wait to see what excuse they’ll serve as food! But darling, tell me, how’s your gorgeous man of a partner?”
Julia thought about Jan the professional dance partner she’d been assigned. If only she had had a choice! He was tall, impossibly fit, blonde and beautiful, she admitted that much. He was also a terrible bully. “He’s lovely,” she said finally, “but I’ve never worked so hard in my life. I ache in places I never knew existed!”
“Oh darling, I’m the same. Warren is a darling, an absolute hoot but can you imagine, at my age? Any minute during training, I swear it’s all going to drop off – or out.”
Julia laughed. Lavinia was the oldest in the group of competitors by far. She claimed to be thirty-nine but was probably closer to sixty. Julia had seen her in films dating from way back. She’d assumed the role of mother hen over them all and did things strictly her way – didn’t rehearse before eleven, broke for a two-hour lunch at one and finished on the dot of four. Her dancing partner Warren, a little man from Stoke-on-Trent and as ordinary as Lavinia was exotic, despaired. He’d won the competition last year and had been hoping to do what had never been achieved before – two successive wins. Julia thought his chances this year with Lavinia were remote to say the least.
She turned to the older woman: “The competition is pretty fierce this year isn’t it?”
In an automatic gesture, Lavinia captured another glass of wine off a waiter, took a sip and called him back.
He came immediately, people tended to do as Lavinia said, Julia noticed. She had that bitchy, middle class, actressy quality that was thankfully rare in the profession nowadays.
“Another one for my friend if I may,” Lavinia ordered. She passed the glass to Julia. “There darling, this one must be a new bottle, same wine but at least it’s so cold you can’t taste it! What were you saying?”
“That the competition is tough. Who do you think is going to win?”
“Well my angel, I know who desperately wants to win.” Lavinia smirked and nodded to where eighteen year old model and aspiring actress, Casey, was batting her enormous false eyelashes at Harri. Someone had tacked up a bedraggled sprig of mistletoe as an early nod to Christmas and Casey had half an eye on it.
The poor man was trapped. He was visibly backing off from the torrent of giggles and nonsense that passed as conversation from the girl.
“Met her type before,” Lavinia sniffed. “God, I think I was her once a long time ago. All hair and short skirts and dangerous ambition. When you’re older you learn how to hide it better.”
“What, stupidity?” Julia said, without thinking.
Lavinia snorted. “She’s not stupid, she’ll go far. No, you learn how to play the game with a little more finesse, a little more decorum.” Lavinia’s eyebrows rose. “Look at the length of that skirt!”
Julia laughed again, Lavinia was always good company. “I’d wear skirts like that if I had the legs.”
“Keep training as we’ve been doing and you will, darling. Have you ever met a chubby dancer?”
Julia tried not to bridle at the inference that she was fat, she’d lost a stone and a half already. She’d been consoling herself with the thought that if this TV show didn’t revive her flagging acting career, at least she’d have a fit and toned body at the end of it.
Lavinia eyed her closely. “I know why Casey’s doing it,” she said, as they watched the girl run her fingers up an alarmed Harri’s arm, “but why did you get involved in this farce, angel? I thought you were legit theatre?”
Julia shrugged. “I am, when I can get it. In between the funding crisis and all these big name American TV stars coming over and getting the plum roles, I seem to have hit a dry spot.”
“It was ever thus.” Lavinia gave a theatrical sigh. “Are you hoping it’ll get your face known on the box, darling?”
Julia nodded. “And it raises money for a good cause.”
“Ah yes, the charity.” Lavinia smiled. “Never harms one’s profile to be seen doing something good for charity.”
Julia was silent for a moment. Lavinia had misunderstood her but she let it go. It hadn’t quite been what she’d meant. She needed some publicity, it was true, but didn’t want to support the charity simply in a cynical bid to get it. She really believed in the cause.
They all forgot why they were really here sometimes. The children’s charity, Pennies for Pencils, raised money and awareness for a range of education projects, in the UK and abroad. This was really why they were all still in the studio, after a long day’s rehearsal, supposedly mingling and getting to know one another better.
Lavinia trilled goodbye, wandered off and left the younger woman alone. Julia watched the crowd. She enjoyed people watching; she loved to see how people moved, how they related to one another.
The show was only a week old, they’d done the pre-practice rehearsals and were about to film the first programme before a live studio audience.
On the eve of filming, the producers had brought everyone together tonight as an icebreaker. Lavinia was now talking to Daniel Cunningham, Casey’s stunning professional dance partner and Ted, another actor, and a recent refugee from Eastenders. He was a nice man thought Julia and he deserved to do well. But, as everyone knew, nice didn’t count for much in the acting business.
Julia watched as Casey, having given up on Harri, was flirting with Callum instead. In contrast to the younger man, he seemed to be taking Casey in his stride. One large hand was fondling her naked back. As she was wearing a criminally low halter-top, access to naked flesh was made easy. Casey never seemed to wear many clothes and Callum’s hairy hand was inching its way to her barely concealed bottom. He was edging her nearer the mistletoe and she didn’t look at all unhappy to be led. The girl had better watch out, thought Julia. Rumour had it that Callum was unhappily married and on the lookout. Julia had already fended off his inebriated advances earlier in the evening.
Harri looked across at Julia and caught her eye. He smiled in his friendly way and made his way over to her. “Thought I’d leave them to it,” he grinned.
“Um, yes, they certainly seem to be getting on well.” Julia averted her eyes as Callum’s hand found its target and squeezed.
She turned back to Harri. He’d been dwarfed by Callum, but away from the rugby player’s bulk, she could see he was actually quite tall in his own right.
Julia had never seen Red Pepper but her twelve-year-old niece was crazy about it and mainly because of this man. She could see the attraction. He’d been blessed with the unthreatening good looks of the boy next door, a warm smile, and dark hair, fashionably gelled up at the front.
Looking closer though, Julia saw the broken nose of a sportsman and high cheekbones, which any actor would happily die for. He had beautifully shaped expressive eyebrows too.
On the surface he appeared to be Harri Morgan, TV presenter with a reputation for being a daredevil, a laugh a minute and game for anything. Underneath, Julia thought she sensed a reserved, rather shy man. He had something more complicated in his soul and she was intrigued.
At the moment, however, it seemed Harri’s thoughts were centred on the simple things in life. “God, this wine’s terrible!” He looked around him longingly. “What I wouldn’t do for a pint.”
“I know what you mean.” She laughed up at him and was mesmerised for a second by the intensity in his warm dark eyes.
The moment was interrupted by Bob Dandry, the executive producer and director of the show, tapping his glass.
“Ladies and gentlemen. Thank you for coming and welcome to the wonderful world of Who Dares Dances. I know you’re going to have a truly marvellous time tonight getting to know your fellow competitors but just before the food is served I’d like to say a few words.”
Julia groaned and Harri leaned closer. “I know, anyone who says a few words usually means the exact opposite. Do you think we can escape? I know a good pub just over the road.”
Julia giggled and shushed him and turned to listen. Bob droned on about it being a fantastic show that drew in an audience of over two million and had raised, in its three year run, nearly five million pounds. There was applause at this point and Bob put out his hands in a gesture of mock humility. “No, no please. We do all we can for Pennies for Pencils. I’m sure you’ll agree it’s a worthy cause.” He smoothed a strand of ginger hair over his bald spot and smiled greasily.
“Not to mention that it boosts one or two careers,” Harri whispered in her ear, his Welsh accent smooth and seductive. She stifled another giggle and elbowed him in the ribs.
“Ow!” He rubbed the offended part in pretend outrage and a few heads turned their way with interest. Anything was better than Bob’s speech.
But then the producer said something which caught everyone’s attention. “As you know, we try to keep the show fresh, to keep the audience interested and voting - and raising money of course. And we need to keep our image separate from that other little dance show on TV.”
Julia caught Lavinia’s eye and they grinned at one another. ‘That other little dance show’ was the riotously popular BBC Strictly Come Dancing. The elephant in the room, Lord Voldemort, never to be named in the studios of Who Dares Dances.
“So we’re proposing,” continued Bob, “that, just for one dance when we come back for the Christmas special, to put two competitors together. This means that two non dancers will dance with one another.
At the ripple of shock Bob put out his hands again placatingly. “You will be coached by your professional dancers of course and it’s just a bit of fun.”
Fun. There was that word again. What fun? wondered Julia. I’m having enough trouble dancing with Jan, let alone someone who doesn’t know what they’re doing!
Everyone else appeared to be having similar thoughts as a buzz of panicked chatter rose around the room.
“I’ll let you know your partners now,” Bob ploughed on, “so you can make arrangements for rehearsals. Remember it’s in only seven weeks so time is of the essence!”
“Uffern dan!” Julia heard from Harri, all his boyish twinkly humour gone.
She closed her eyes and whispered a little prayer. “Please don’t let my partner be Callum. Please don’t let it be Callum!” She wasn’t sure she could put up with his groping for the next seven weeks and there was something about his huge oafishness that was very off-putting. “I’ll do most things for charity but not that.”
“Sorry?” Harri leaned a little closer, to hear better over the noise in the room.
Julia blinked, she hadn’t realised she’d said it out loud. “I said I didn’t know this was in the contract.”
“It wasn’t, but there were rumours they had something up their sleeve for this year. I just hope I don’t get -”
She never heard who Harri didn’t want as a partner as Bob began to read out the new non professional dancing partnerships. “Lavinia, you’ll be partnered with Sam.”
Julia looked over to where Lavinia stood with Charlie and Carol the presenters of the show. Sam was a Liverpudlian comedian known for his coarse humour. Lavinia didn’t look happy.
“Casey, you’ll be partnered with Ted.” Casey looked equally displeased.
“Callum, you’ll be with Suni.”
Julia felt a pang of sympathy for Suni, an elegant celebrity TV cook and then heaved a sigh of relief as she realised she’d been spared Callum’s groping fingers. She was so busy being relieved that she missed the next few announcements.
“And finally, as I’m sure you’ll have worked out by now, the last two celebrities not allocated partners are Julia and Harri.” Bob beamed at them. “So they will be dancing together. That’s all. Have a wonderful evening. Any questions address them to Maria, my assistant. And, don’t forget – who dares dances!” With this, Bob hurried from the studio.
Coward, thought Julia. Drop the bombshell and run off. She turned to look at Harri. “Well, not too bad for us I suppose?” She looked questioningly up at him.
“I think we’ll work together alright won’t we? But whether we’ll be able to dance mind, that’s another story.” He winked, his humour obviously restored.
To Julia’s pleasure, he sounded relieved. She could do a lot worse than spend time with this man she thought.
“Like some food?” he asked her cheerfully. “I’m going to get some, I’m starving, been filming all day, see.”
She nodded and watched him as he made his way over to the table where a buffet was being laid. He had a good pair of shoulders and a neat set of hips. And his bottom was, well quite frankly, it was gorgeous. Yes, she could do a lot worse.
Step Two.
They were all back in the studio the following day. It was show day and last minute dress rehearsals had begun at nine, except for Lavinia who showed up two hours later much to the annoyance of Warren. Julia had left the party early with Harri; they’d shared a cab home, as he lived not far from her in north London. They agreed they’d both had a long day and wanted to call it a night.
And now, thought Julia, it all starts in earnest. She looked around the studio – the same room that they had partied in last night. All remnants of the party had disappeared and there was workmanlike mood this morning. It reminded her of her days in the theatre, of dress rehearsals, of the buzzy adrenalin-filled quality of the atmosphere.
She was nervous but excited. She and Jan were going to dance a waltz and she was pleased it was a reasonably simple routine. She’d found it hard to memorise the steps and was completely reliant on Jan leading her round. He did so with barely concealed Russian impatience, swearing quietly whenever she did something wrong - which was often. He scared her a little. She worked best with encouragement and praise and his arrogant bullying wasn’t making for an ideal partnership.
She watched enviously as Daniel and Casey cruised round the floor in an American smooth. Daniel Cunningham was as tall and as good lookingly blonde as Jan but was much kinder and encouraging and, as a result, Casey was already dancing with impressive skill.
“They’re good aren’t they?” a Welsh voice whispered in her ear.
She turned and smiled at Harri. “They are. Do you think they’ll win?”
He shrugged. “They might. But my money’s on Scott and Suni.” He nodded to where the couple were trying out some of the moves to their quickstep. “Scott’s determined to win, He’s incredibly competitive and Suni is ….” he trailed off as he looked at them.
“So graceful,” she finished for him. “Yes, she is isn’t she?” Julia blew out a breath.
“Something wrong?”
“Just wondering what I’m doing here, that’s all. I’ve discovered I’ve got two left feet.”
Harri grinned. “Not from where I was watching. You and Jan look great together.”
“Only because he’s lugging me round. Still at least the long dress will cover any wrong steps! It’s got so many feathers sewn onto it you can’t actually see me.”
“Wish I had the same sort of costume,” Harri laughed. “Poor Eva’s given up on me ever being able to move my hips.”
“You’ve got a hard dance to start with, haven’t you? I wouldn’t fancy doing the salsa so early on in the competition.” Julia made a sympathetic face.
“Yup, Eva’s one hell of a taskmaster. Bullied me into submission so I agreed to do it. But if I go wrong I can at least make a bit up, it’s not as technical as their dance.” He gestured again to Suni and Scott.
“Agreed. Jan’s the same, a terrific bully.” She sighed.
“I suppose that’s what it takes to get to the top of their field. Total dedication and one hundred percent competitiveness.” Harri regarded her thoughtfully.
“Yes, but he could be nicer about it … oh hello Jan!” she said brightly as the man in question came up to them.
“No time,” he wagged a finger at them, “no time for gossip. We work. Now!” He snatched at Julia’s hand and marched her to the dance floor.
Harri watched her go and raised a hand as she pulled a silly face back at him. He liked her. He’d seen her on stage last year and had liked her ever since.
She’d been brilliant. It was the first night of a Noel Coward play and she was brittle and arch and poignant, all the things that Coward demanded. He was relieved when he met her briefly at the after show party that she was none of those things in real life. She was actually funny and self deprecating and quite shy.
They’d chatted and then he was dragged off to another party. He left reluctantly; he’d enjoyed talking to her.
Now, as he watched her being swung smoothly round the dance floor by her Russian giant of a partner, he decided he really liked her. He had little time for a personal life and the producers of Red Pepper were always on the lookout for scandal so he had to be extremely circumspect. That’s why he backed off whenever Casey came near, gorgeous though she was, her body clearly displayed in clothes that were too tight or slipped off revealing lots of naked flesh. He knew women like Casey were big trouble. One night and she’d be rushing to the papers with the story. His career wouldn’t withstand that, Fizz TV had made it more than clear that if there were any sex or drugs stories, he’d be out. One glance at Casey and all those things were on the cards. But Julia, now she was a different woman. She was easy to get along with. Attractive too, with her mane of black hair and those flashing green eyes. He felt himself stirring. God, he really liked her. The irritating ‘no relationships’ clause niggled at the back of his mind. It was too frustrating. He’d have to be careful. No rushing into anything.
“Larry!” It was Eva, her Swedish accent could never quite master his Welsh name.
“It’s Harri,” he muttered under his breath and then pinned a cheery smile on his face as he turned to his professional dance partner. His coach. His nemesis.
“We will work now, I think. Come. And Larry, hold me like a man this time please.”
Harri gritted his teeth and got into position. With any luck, he’d be so dire they’d be voted off in the first show. Then he wouldn’t have to put up with this termagant any longer. But he didn’t really mean it; already the old competitiveness, a relic from his college rugby playing days, had taken hold. He was in it to win it, he decided as he was steered round the floor by the determined arms of his partner.
“No Larry, take the lead! Hold me like you mean it!”
***
Before she knew it, Julia had completed her waltz to subdued applause from the audience and was standing in front of the judges, waiting for their comments. Her heart sank; she could see from Jan’s rigid shoulders that he wasn’t pleased with her performance.
Arthur, the senior judge, was first to comment. He had a reputation for being straight-talking but kind. “Well you had a good attempt, you sell the dance well but you were letting Jan do all the hard work. You need to something about raising your ribcage and your neckline is dreadful. Not a bad effort, work on those things and you’ll get better.”
Not that bad, Julia thought cautiously.
But the others were much harsher, even cruel. Her timing was out, her footwork was bad and they repeated Arthur’s criticism about her poor posture. Jan dropped her hand as soon as they left the main studio and went to the back room for the results. He was a silent mountain of disappointment. The scores were disappointing too – a paltry ten in total and they were in penultimate place at the bottom of the leader board, with –inexplicably - Suni and Scott taking the other last place.
“Don’t worry,” said Harri as he went past to get ready for his dance; he was up next. He squeezed her arm quickly and then left.
Jan stormed off in search of water, muttering Russian curses. Julia went to sit on the sofa with the others and got her breath back.
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