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?
CHAPTER 15
