Strictly Come Dating Read online

  Then there was the biggest reason of all to squash her little crush. It was likely he was only flirting with her because he could, and not because he intended doing anything about it.

  After the lesson was over and the class had trooped out, Belinda turned to them both.

  ‘So, I understand you want to think about a routine, but first you have the most difficult decision. Ballroom or Latin? Waltz or Samba? Foxtrot or Cha Cha? Quick step or Rumba?’

  Seb nodded to her. ‘It’s Maggie’s choice.’

  ‘I’m most comfortable with the waltz.’ It was the first dance she’d learned, and the one she’d forgotten the least.

  Seb shook his head. ‘I told you before, we’re not doing what you think we should, what you’re comfortable with. We’re doing the one you want to dance.’

  ‘That’s not how I make decisions. It’s a case of weighing up the pros and cons. Choosing the one we’ll have the best chance of success with, considering neither of us will be able to devote that much time to practising it.’ Why, when she knew she was being sensible, did it sound so stuffy?

  Seb sighed, rubbing at the back of his neck. ‘I’m not asking you where you want to invest your life savings, Mags. I’m asking what you want to dance. Which one gets your blood flowing, your heart pumping at the thought of performing it? Which do you feel passionate about?’

  His face lit up as he spoke. Handsome, full of vibrancy, energy and confidence. In that moment she didn’t want to play safe. She wanted to be bold, like he was. ‘The rumba.’

  ‘Ah, the king of the sexy dances. Romantic and seductive.’ Belinda’s face softened. ‘It’s one of my favourites, too.’

  As quickly as it had come, Maggie’s bravery began to take a nose dive. ‘Maybe that’s not a good choice though. The waltz would be better. It’s more… elegant.’ And a damn sight less sensual. God, why had she picked the flipping rumba? The “dance of love”. The dance she knew, from all her Strictly watching, required serious chemistry between the dancers.

  Seb laughed in that easy way he had. ‘Elegant definitely describes you, but it’s not a word that’s ever been used to describe me.’ He ran a hand through his hair, and there was something about the way the action caused his bicep to flex, about the way it drew attention to the leather straps around his wrist, that was unconsciously sexy.

  That’s why she’d chosen the rumba. It wasn’t her, it was Seb: sultry and sensual. Maybe it’s what you want to be, too. At least for a few weeks.

  ‘It’s your choice though, Mags. We’ll do whatever you decide.’

  ‘The rumba,’ she repeated, then drew in a breath and forced out a smile. ‘Let’s give it a try.’

  ‘You’ll need to put in a lot of practice to pull it off,’ Belinda warned, but just as Maggie started to wobble again, she added, ‘But you’ve got a real flair for dance, a natural rhythm that can’t be taught. I’m sure you won’t have a problem picking it up.’

  Seb coughed. ‘And me?’

  ‘You, dear, will need to get those hips of yours moving.’ Belinda smiled. ‘But judging from the comments from the rest of the dance class, you’ve got the flirting down to a fine art.’

  Seb gave her a wide-eyed innocent look. Then flashed a smile that proved Belinda’s point.

  An exhausting hour later – she hadn’t realised how many different moves there were, how many possible routines – Maggie walked with Seb towards her car.

  ‘Tomorrow I think I’m going to ache in places I didn’t realise existed.’

  He laughed, his breath visible against the cold, dark December evening. ‘Looks like we’re going to be seeing a lot of each other.’

  She glanced sideways at him. ‘Please don’t tell me you’re one of those hugely competitive people who has to win everything they take part in? Because if you are, we should have chosen the waltz, like I said.’

  He shrugged. ‘I like to win, sure.’ As he held the car door open for her, he caught her eye and grinned. ‘But mostly, I like to have fun.’

  ‘I hope that’s what it will be,’ she continued as she manoeuvred out of the car park and onto the road. ‘Because I can’t dedicate much time to this. I work long hours, and then there are the girls to consider. It’s hard enough finding time for the lessons once a week.’

  ‘I know that.’ The way her skin pricked told her he was watching her. ‘But I figured I could come to your house a couple of times a week when the girls are in bed.’ He let out a bark of laughter. ‘And that came across way seedier than it sounded in my head.’

  She was grateful it was dark, so he couldn’t see the flush she knew was on her face. ‘Or you could come while they’re still awake, and we could dance with them. I know Penny would like that. She asked me tonight if you’d show her the steps again.’

  There was a long pause before he spoke. ‘That could work, too.’

  When she pulled up outside Sarah’s house, the car fell quiet and Maggie wondered if she’d said something wrong. There wasn’t usually this awkwardness between them.

  ‘Will you be joining us at Alice’s on Saturday for the semi-final?’

  ‘Yeah, probably.’ He sounded distracted. ‘Can I ask a question?’

  ‘You don’t usually request permission for that.’

  He gave her a small smile. ‘It’s kind of sensitive.’

  ‘Now I’m worried.’

  ‘Sorry, I’m really ballsing this up.’ His eyes found hers. ‘Did you suggest I come round when the girls are awake because you felt you needed them as a chaperone, or because you thought they might enjoy it?’

  ‘The latter,’ she replied honestly. ‘I’m a grown woman. I don’t need to rely on a seven- and nine-year-old to look after my virtue.’

  His shoulders relaxed. ‘Good, because while I’d love to dance with the girls, I think sometimes it would be good for us to practice with no distractions.’

  She eyed him thoughtfully. ‘What happened to the guy who wants to have fun?’

  He laughed softly. ‘He’s still there, don’t worry. It’s just… I guess I don’t want to make a fool of myself in front of the kids.’ His gaze shifted to hers. ‘I want to inspire them. I mean, if I can get up there and dance, there’s no reason they can’t do it, too.’ His eyes glittered in the dark interior. ‘I also have this crazy need to impress you.’

  ‘Impress me?’ Her heart jumped. ‘Why?’

  ‘You mean aside from the fact you’re the most attractive woman I’ve ever met?’

  ‘Wow, that’s…’ She trailed off, completely thrown off balance. ‘Thank you.’

  He smiled. ‘No thanks needed. I’m just telling you how I see it. As I said before, that ex of yours must have a screw loose.’

  She wanted to believe the flattery, but she’d seen Isabelle. Blonde, pretty-faced, younger-than-her Isabelle.

  ‘How did the girls get on with him the other day?’

  Relieved at the change of subject – she wasn’t sure how to handle his compliments – she launched into a too detailed description of where Paul had taken them.

  If Seb noticed she was rambling, he didn’t comment on it. ‘Is he going to be a more regular fixture now then?’ At her wary glance, he held up his hands. ‘Hey, you can tell me to mind my own business.’

  ‘I can, can’t I?’ She was a private person who only shared with people she trusted, so it surprised her when she went on to answer him. ‘Honestly, I don’t know how things will work out. Paul and Isabelle want the girls to go to their wedding, and the catty part of me thinks it’s because Isabelle thinks they’ll make cute bridesmaids, which they definitely will, but maybe that’s not fair. Maybe she genuinely wants to include them in their life after the wedding, too. Maybe that’s what they both want.’

  ‘But until you’re convinced of that, you’re allowed to be catty.’

  She laughed. ‘Yes, that’s what I thought. And I’m damned if I’m going to let him wriggle his way back into our lives, just for him to go and let them down again.�
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  ‘Ouch, look at those claws.’ He opened the door and climbed out, then ducked his head and flashed her a grin. ‘I reckon you’re more tiger than cat. See you Saturday.’

  A tiger, she mused as she watched him stride up the path. She liked the idea of it. Certainly it was a lot better than the doormat she’d felt at the end of her marriage, knowing her husband had been off flirting with another woman instead of coming home to her.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Visits to his father – not much change there – and work at the youth centre took up most of Seb’s week. Belinda came by the centre to give the kids their first dance lesson, with predictable results. A lot of ‘I’m not interested in this shit’ posturing from the boys, and a fair amount of giggling from the girls. Belinda wasn’t someone you ignored though, and she’d at least made them try, even if the comments he’d overheard in the corridor afterwards, ‘I can’t believe he’s getting us to learn this dumb stuff’ (Hayley), and ‘I’m not gonna come next week’ (Rylan), weren’t exactly encouraging.

  Saturday was Strictly night, hosted by Alice, and Seb had been disconcerted to find both her and Sarah giving him pointed looks on several occasions.

  ‘What was all that?’ he demanded afterwards when he’d come across the pair of them in the kitchen after Maggie, Hannah and the girls had gone home.

  ‘We were just wondering why you came,’ Alison answered, giving him a sly look. ‘All you did was watch Maggie.’

  ‘And you’d know that how? Because you spent the entire time watching me? Give me a break. You’re doing the old needle Seb trick, and it’s not going to wash, because guess what, I’m no longer ten. I’m wise to your little games.’

  Their observation worried him though, because they weren’t far off the mark. Truth was, though he’d begun to find Strictly entertaining – hell, at times it was downright funny – watching other people dance didn’t really do it for him. He wanted to be the one dancing. More specifically, he wanted to be dancing with the woman currently taking up far more of his head space than was healthy.

  In a few hours he’d be doing exactly that. In a community hall that had seen better days, and in the company of a dozen others, most of them pensioners, but none of that dampened the anticipatory fizz.

  Of course it did assume the fifteen-year-old Fiesta he’d just bought would get them there.

  Standing on his parents’ drive, his mum cast a dubious eye over the silver dream machine. ‘Is that the best you could find?’

  ‘Way to crush a guy’s manhood, Mum.’ He ran a hand over the bonnet, trying to ignore the scratches, the small bubble of rust. ‘It’s the best I could find for under a grand, yes.’

  His father grunted. ‘Why the sudden urgency to buy a car? You’d be better off saving your money.’

  ‘On a purely financial level, I agree with you. But that’s not the only consideration here.’

  ‘I thought you were okay getting the bus to that place you’re working.’ He shuffled his feet, and Seb wondered if he was already getting tired of standing. ‘They hardly pay you enough to splash out on a car.’

  ‘The pay goes up when I’m qualified.’ No point telling his father it would take at least a year of study and cost over five grand if he wanted to do the course full-time. And yes, he’d looked into it.

  ‘What’s the other consideration?’ His mum, scarily astute, started to smile. ‘It’s a woman, isn’t it?’

  God, was that really a blush he could feel creep up his neck? ‘Buses don’t always go where and when you want them to,’ he protested. ‘Cars are more flexible.’

  ‘They’re also more suitable for picking up a woman and taking her out,’ she remarked dryly, before giving his arm a quick squeeze. ‘I hope you’ll tell us about her sometime.’

  ‘There’s nothing to tell, Mum.’ Because he couldn’t lie to her, he added, ‘At least not yet.’

  She chuckled. ‘I knew there was someone. I hope she appreciates the effort you’ve gone to for her, buying this car.’

  ‘Hey, I’ve not bought it for her.’ Though he had, kind of, sort of, hadn’t he? Because he couldn’t ask her out and then get her to drive. But he wasn’t going to ask her out. Was he?

  ‘Of course you haven’t.’ She gave him that smile, the one mums have that lets you know they can see right through you.

  ‘How’s the preparation for this competition of yours going?’ his dad asked.

  The question surprised Seb. ‘How do you know about that?’

  ‘I heard you telling your mother yesterday. It’s my heart that’s buggered, not my hearing.’

  ‘Your heart isn’t buggered. It’s taken a hit and is recovering.’

  ‘Too bloody slowly.’ As if to prove it, he paused a moment, taking a laboured breath. ‘So, are you advertising this event properly? Have you secured a sponsor?’

  That was more like it. For a moment there, Seb thought he’d been genuinely interested in the dance competition but no. It was another opportunity to have a dig. ‘I know what I’m doing, Dad.’

  ‘Promoted a lot of events living on that pontoon of yours, did you?’ When Seb rolled his eyes, his father humphed. ‘Just as I thought. Now let me tell you how I used to go about promoting an event.’

  When Seb finally managed to extricate himself, he cast a glance at them in his rear-view mirror, feeling an ache in his chest as he watched his dad lean on his mum as they made their way back up the path and into the house. For all his strut, his dad was failing. Always the man of the house, the ‘strong’ one, it was hard to see him like this. According to Alice, his heart muscle had been damaged by the attack, which explained why he was so frequently tired, and breathless just from walking down the path. The doctors were managing it with medication but so far hadn’t found the right combination to really make a difference.

  His dad was taking it hard, which meant he was making it hard for everyone else, too.

  Shaking off the gloomy thoughts, Seb glanced at the clock on the dashboard. He had an hour to get back to Sarah’s and give the car a clean – from the look of the inside it had recently been taken for a joy ride by a pack of golden retrievers – before heading over to Maggie’s to pick her up.

  He was losing his battle with Henry Hoover – who put a smiling face on a vacuum cleaner? It was just plain creepy – when Seb heard Sarah’s car pull up behind his.

  Bloody great. All those nights she worked late, and his sister chose today to get home on time.

  ‘Well, well, well. My brother with a hoover in his hands. Wonders will never cease.’

  ‘Funny. I’ve been using it on your place for the last two months.’

  She tilted her head up to meet his eyes. ‘You’ve really been back two months?’

  ‘Give or take, yes.’

  He held his breath, a faint hope that she’d leave the conversation there and not notice the metal object he was standing next to. ‘You’ve bought a car?’

  Sighing, he put the ruddy hoover down. ‘Why is this such a surprise? I work odd shifts, including evenings and weekends. I can’t rely on the bus to always get me there.’

  ‘Okay, I can go with that.’ She nodded to the hoover. ‘But cleaning it? That’s what I’m finding suspicious. Especially considering the timing. Wednesday, ‘Seb and Maggie go dancing’ evening.’

  Was there any way he could have a private life, living back here? God, to be thousands of miles away, where he’d dated women with nobody in his family knowing about it. ‘Fine, I’m cleaning it because I’m going to pick Maggie up. It’s about time I did, considering all the lifts she’s given me.’

  ‘In her three-series, two-year-old BMW.’

  Yeah, he’d not needed the reminder. Not just a better car, and a newer car, but one that was always so frigging immaculate. How did she manage that with two kids? ‘A lift is a lift.’

  ‘Umm.’ Sarah tapped a finger to her lips and his heart sank. It was her thinking pose. ‘Well, I’m sure she’ll appreciate the effor
t you’ve gone to, just to take her to a dance lesson. How are they going, by the way? Is learning the foxtrot everything you hoped it would be? I mean, I assume that’s why you’re carrying on with the lessons. And not just to follow Maggie around like a lovesick puppy.’

  ‘Piss off.’ Not eloquent, not nice, but he was getting a bit sick of all this.

  Sarah frowned, and where he’d expected irritation, he saw only concern. ‘You did say you weren’t going to do anything stupid.’

  ‘Thanks for the reminder.’ He paused, looking back at her. ‘Purely out of theoretical interest, what would be stupid, in your book?’

  She took a step towards him and cupped his face in her hands. ‘Anything that resulted in one, or both, of you getting hurt,’ she said quietly.

  The worry in her eyes caught at his throat. They bickered, they annoyed each other, they needled, but when push came to shove, his sisters had always looked out for him. Swallowing down the emotion, he took hold of her hands. ‘Roger that. And for the record, I have no intention of hurting her.’

  ‘I know.’ She smiled sadly. ‘But it isn’t always in your control. I worry that you’re only here temporarily, so starting anything seems to be asking for trouble.’

  ‘Am I only here temporarily?’ His question surprised them both. Was he seriously considering not going back to Oz?

  ‘Are you thinking of staying?’ Sarah’s expression held a mixture of both shock and hope.

  ‘No. I don’t know.’ Where had this uncertainty come from? ‘I’m not going anywhere while Dad’s like he is.’

  Sarah surprised him then by putting her arms around him and hugging him tight.