“Maybe.”
Definitely. He could just imagine her, with all the team’s WAGs, meeting him after a game and hugging him hello, kissing—whoa.
Her head tilted, exposing those long lines of her neck he’d had the pleasure of seeing up close, yet not too personal. Not yet, anyway. “Are you okay?”
He nodded. He would be. After an ice bath, and maybe a cold shower on top of that.
CHAPTER 8
Toronto
Saturday
This was going to be terrible. Sunday’s performance might be tomorrow, but today’s dress rehearsal, after yesterday’s camera blocking day, was not fueling hope of a good performance. At all.
Coco had watched their performance and offered some tips in what was apparently known as a “show-and-tell”, when the couples would dance in front of the others to both gain an idea about what their rivals were doing, and gain the sense of a live audience. Luc kept forgetting his steps and missing his cues, even though he’d been improving. Until now they’d only danced in front of Ella and the crew, and one time when Poppy had “dropped” in, so it must be his nerves. She prayed he’d remember the routine tomorrow night.
The past few days had been insanely busy. Thursday’s flight back to TO had been followed by costume fittings, then another meal with their fellow castmates. Friday had seen a fresh wax and spray tan, then camera blocking, then she’d gone back to rehearsals for the opening number with the other pros while Luc did more interviews, and caught up with his friend Dan Walton, who played pro hockey for Toronto. Luc had invited her, but she’d refused, citing too many commitments for any conversation with a new acquaintance to make sense. She was so immersed in the dance that Harry’s vocals had started wafting through her dreams, where she imagined the big white dress she was wearing to be one she might wear on her wedding day. Crazy dreams. They needed to move onto the jive ASAP so the crazy dreams would stop.
But today’s dress rehearsal was not going well, and as the camera guys chatted among themselves, and the producer spoke to someone else before gesturing for them to begin again, she couldn’t help but worry about what this would mean for tomorrow.
Sunday
The day had started early with makeup, hair, then trying on their costumes. This was followed by another rehearsal before a light meal, more photos, interviews, then a meeting with the cast members for a final run-through. Now they were waiting backstage as the clock ticked down before tonight’s performance. She was wearing a special spangled number, all silver and short, like what she’d worn in their promotion piece. Luc was looking debonair in his suit, even if he looked like he might be sick at any moment.
She nudged him with her hip. He glanced down, his eyes widening, then he swallowed. “Hey Bails.”
Her lips lifted. “Careful. You talk like that and people will think you’re from a farm.”
He frowned, as if thinking about what he’d said, then laughed.
Good. He needed to relax. She leaned closer. “That smile you’re wearing now? That’s what you need to wear the rest of the day. I don’t want you looking like you’re about to throw up or like you’re bored or want to be anywhere else. You need to look excited and bring the energy, okay?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“That’s Sergeant Ma’am to you.”
He snickered.
“What’s got this guy laughing?” Miguel asked. He looked at Luc. “I swear, a minute ago you looked like you wanted to puke, and now you’re all happy again.”
Luc wrapped an arm around Bailey’s shoulders. “She’s good stress relief.”
“Mm-hmm.” Miguel raised an eyebrow.
“Whoa.” Luc released his hold. “Not in any inappropriate way, of course.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” Miguel said, before giving Bailey a wink.
Bailey stepped away. No. She didn’t need anyone here getting the wrong idea. Dancers did tend to be more touchy-feely than others, but she was pretty sure Luc’s need to be near her was simply for his own peace of mind. She was like a child’s comfort toy. Nothing else. And she definitely didn’t appreciate Miguel’s attempt to seed Luc’s insecurities right before they were due to go on.
“Okay, places, people. Let’s get this show ready.”
By now they could hear the audience filing in, and she moved to her spot for the dance pros’ opening routine. They’d do this number then it was back to change for her floaty white gown, then she’d need to calm her own nerves before their number started. They were due to perform third, after Miguel’s author, with Coco’s actor going after the other dancers at the very end.
The beats from Jason Mraz’s song filled the studio, and she peeked at the camera standing nearby, ready to record her first action. Thirty seconds in and it was her turn to shake her leg, nod her head, walk two steps then pirouette, then move into a soul train move, smiling at the camera as she held her left hand out and swung her right up and down in a whip motion, then joined the other dancers in a long line as they pivoted and each person shook their tush.
How fun was this? The joy of dance took hold, and as they’d practiced to precision sharpness—no way did the producers want the pro dancers looking sloppy—she knew she could count on everyone hitting their beats. Her role, as this season’s newbie pro, was to show everyone she was fun and talented and totally deserved to be here.
She went through the choreography, smiling with her hips, knowing her tiny skirt would shimmer and sparkle, that she had to look perky and sassy and fun. So she tossed her hair and threw a flirtatious wink over her shoulder. Then it was time to partner up, to demonstrate some of the moves viewers would see during the series. She did a quick waltz move with Miguel, arching into a tango stretch before Miguel and the other male dancers glided off the stage, and the female dance pros could do some freestyle moves. She, of course, did her ballet steps, including the rond de jambe leading into développé, the Bournonville variation of the grand jeté, a move that always looked impressive and would film well. Oh, she loved to dance.
The men returned, and they continued with their choreography, using light wooden chairs for a series of jazz-like moves, before the routine concluded with a sharp pose.
Hold for three beats, then relax, keeping on smiling. Then, “Cut!”
They were released, and grabbing her chair, she scampered away backstage, glimpsing Luc’s dropped jaw before he gave her two thumbs-up, and mouthed “You were hot!”
But there was no time for that. She had to change into her white dress and get her hair quickly restyled before reentering very soon, arm in arm with Luc. She hurried to the dressing room as the hosts, Jenna and Peter, were being welcomed onstage with cheers and applause, then the camera focus would shift to introducing the judges. Even though the dance part was “live” in that they didn’t get to do a redo, it was being filmed out of “real” time. While this section beforehand wasn’t filmed live, she still only had a few minutes to get changed and have her hair blown out into the big soft curls her costume needed.
Five minutes later she found Luc in the wings, and grabbed his hand.
He glanced down at her, the stiffness in his face easing away. “You’re back.”
“How are you feeling?”
He shook his head. “I’m trying not to throw up.”
