Strictly Come Dating (The Kathryn Freeman Romcom Collection, Book 3)

by Kathryn Freeman

  ‘OMG, look at them.’ Rylan bent over, clutching at his stomach, as laughter rolled through him. ‘They’re like summut out of… who’s that woman who wrote that shit book we have to read for English?’

  ‘Jane Austen?’ One of the quieter of the group spoke up. ‘Pride and Prejudice?’

  ‘Yeah. The dance is as stupid as the book.’

  ‘Is it stupid?’ Seb felt a spike of shame as he remembered how he’d sneered at Strictly, until he’d started to really watch it. ‘I’m not sure you can call a book that’s still read by millions, two hundred years after publication, stupid. As for the dance, have you watched their footwork? I sure as hell couldn’t do that. Not without tripping over my feet and landing flat on my arse.’

  ‘And with the dance partner you fancy landing on top of you.’ Hayley started laughing. ‘You wish.’ Hayley nodded down to the phone. ‘Ask her to come to one of our lessons on Thursdays. We want to meet her.’

  ‘Oh no.’ His fledgling romance definitely didn’t need any help from Hayley and her sledgehammer approach to life. ‘She works and has kids. She won’t be able to spare the time.’

  ‘Yeah but she came before, didn’t she?’ Hayley waggled her eyebrows. ‘I remember you bringing some kids here, said you had to look after them. The woman who picked them up was her, wasn’t it? Fair hair, slim. Peng but kind of reserved. And totally older than you.’

  So this was what karma looked like. So many times he’d called Hayley out for not taking her eyes off her phone. Now was payback time.

  ‘Fine.’ Deciding not to comment on ‘peng’ – slang for beautiful and a comment he totally agreed with – or ‘older’, Seb snatched his phone out of his pocket.

  Long story, but the kids here want you to come to one of their dance lessons. What do you reckon? S xxx

  It was a long while before he received a reply. Long enough for Hayley to get bored of asking him, for the dancers on Strictly to have danced all their routines. And for Seb to wonder if he’d upset Maggie in some way. Was she angry he was talking to the kids at the centre about her?

  But then finally, as the winners raised the glittery disco ball trophy aloft, his phone beeped.

  I want to ask why, but suspect that’s in the long story so if it helps you… yes. M xx

  Just as he was reeling from that surprise, he got a second message.

  Feeling emotional, watching the winners. I want a glitter ball M xx

  The idea of winning something at all, never mind with Maggie, even if it was only a local competition he was ham-fistedly putting together, touched deep inside him. He had no clue how to reply without sounding like a sappy twit.

  ‘What did she say?’ Hayley’s loud question barraged through his sentimental thoughts.

  ‘Surprisingly, she said yes. Though she doesn’t know you like I do.’

  Hayley gave him a shove. ‘Aw, come on. You like us really. After all, we’re entering your dumb competition.’

  ‘You are?’ A couple of them had put their names down, but he’d given up all hope of any more.

  ‘Course. Kiara and Zayne and me and, well, I’ll find someone.’ Her eyes strayed to Rylan.

  Seb followed her gaze, and winced. Hayley was in for rough ride if she decided to go down that route. In a way, Seb understood Rylan. He’d behaved in a similar way at fifteen. Acting up, pretending indifference to everything, because inside it mattered too much. In his case it had been about his grades. He wasn’t sure what Rylan’s issue was, but if anyone could help him out of it, he suspected it was the bolshie yet ultimately warm-hearted Hayley. ‘Well I’m glad to hear it. Doesn’t have to be a guy, you know.’

  ‘I know.’ But her gaze remained on Rylan.

  ‘Have you asked him?’ He nodded in Rylan’s direction.

  ‘What, Rylan? Are you mad?’ She shook her head, earrings rattling. ‘I don’t want to dance with him.’

  ‘Of course you don’t.’ He flashed her a smile. ‘Just like I don’t want to date my dance partner.’

  Before Hayley could come back at him – and knowing her there was a volley of words ready on her tongue – Seb stood, turned off the TV and told them all it was time to head home.

  As they meandered out, he opened up the message string to Maggie on his phone, and typed out a reply.

  I want to help you win a glitter ball, but organiser is a bit tight and budget may not run to one. See you tomorrow @12. S xxx

  Chapter Eighteen

  Maggie sighed and slumped back on her bed, surrounded by half the contents of her wardrobe. If she was being this picky about what to wear for a casual lunch with Seb, there was no way she could actually date the man. She’d need a whole new wardrobe, for a start.

  How had she turned from a sassy twenty-three-year-old to staid nearly-forty-year-old? She used to wear miniskirts and thigh-high boots, shorts with thick tights and chunky shoes. Skinny jeans and tight jumpers.

  Why could she now only find jogging bottoms, ill-fitting jeans and work clothes?

  As for her underwear drawer, it was a triumph of comfort over anything remotely sexy.

  Not that she was thinking that far ahead. Though she had made a quiche, figuring why go out for lunch, when they had the house to themselves? No prying eyes, nobody to disturb them. Just her and Seb. Alone. In a place with a bed.

  Groaning, she put her head in her hands. Watching that rumba last night had clearly ignited her long-lost libido. She had half an hour to pull herself together.

  She’d only just dragged on a pair of leggings – the ones she usually wore for pilates – and a cashmere jumper that was her favourite go-to when she couldn’t think of anything else to wear, when the doorbell sounded.

  Heart racing a million miles an hour, she dashed down the stairs to open it.

  ‘Hi.’

  God, how did he do casually sexy so well? He looked like he’d thrown the jeans and Henley shirt on, not spent an hour deliberating over whether either or both showed off his figure. Which they did, beautifully.

  He flashed her the smile she was growing to love. Easy, warm, yet when his eyes met hers, so intimate, too. ‘Hi yourself.’ Bending, he pressed a delicious, yet sadly all too brief, kiss to her lips. ‘Tabby and Penny get off okay?’

  ‘Yes.’ She felt all tongue-tied and out of breath. All she could think was how heavenly he smelt, how fit and vital he looked. How badly she wanted to kiss him again. To run her hands over the muscled contours of his chest, amply shown off by the close-fitting shirt.

  But they weren’t at that stage, and she wasn’t that woman, the one that could dive easily into a sexual relationship.

  ‘I thought, well, I wondered.’ She shook her head, annoyed at herself. ‘I made a quiche.’

  Amusement lit his eyes and before he could say anything, she found she was blabbering. ‘In hindsight that wasn’t the best idea, as they say real men don’t eat quiche, but I think you’re confident enough in your masculinity not to worry about that. We don’t have to eat it though. We can still go out. I just thought it might be nicer to stay in, as we’ve got the place to ourselves.’ And now she knew her face was going a bright shade of scarlet. ‘God, I’m making a right hash of this. It’s…’ She exhaled a deep breath. ‘It’s been a long time since I’ve done anything like this.’

  Those bright blue eyes glittered with humour. ‘Cooked a quiche?’

  ‘Cooked a quiche for a man.’

  He reached for her hands, smiling into her eyes. ‘No need to be nervous, Mags. You can bet whatever you have planned, I’m up for it.’

  Remembering the rifle through her lacklustre underwear drawer, she let out a strangled laugh. ‘That sounds like I’ve got this whole seduction routine lined up.’ When he grinned even wider, waggling his eyebrows, she couldn’t help it. She started to laugh. ‘This is ridiculous. There’s nothing planned.’

  ‘Seriously? You, Maggie Peterson, have nothing planned?’

  He gave her a wide-eyed look and she shoved at him. ‘Very
funny. So, are you coming in or are we going out?’

  He stepped into the house and as he carefully shut the door behind him, Maggie felt a flutter deep in her belly; part nerves, part anticipation. It grew stronger as his hands cupped her face, and he looked straight into her eyes. ‘Real men can’t resist a home-cooked quiche.’

  She huffed out a laugh. ‘It’s bacon and tomato.’ How could he make the word quiche sound intimate, yet she sounded like she was reciting a shopping list?

  He smiled, staring at her mouth. ‘My favourite.’

  Her heart was hammering, her knees felt like jelly. ‘What if I’d said spinach and goat’s cheese?’

  He licked his lips, eyes still on her mouth. ‘Also my favourite.’

  ‘Marmite and banana?’

  His gaze bounced up to her face. ‘Is that really a combination?’

  ‘No. I just wondered how far you’d go.’

  He laughed then, clasping her hand and kissing it. ‘With you, Mags, I’d go all the way.’ Before she could get too panicked, he tugged on her. ‘Come on, let’s go and eat quiche.’

  They chatted as they ate at the kitchen table, dissecting yesterday’s final, and Seb raised the subject of her coming to visit the youth centre again.

  ‘You don’t have to meet them. Hayley’s the one who told me to invite you.’ He smiled at her as he rocked back on his chair. ‘She’s trying to work out if you’re my girlfriend or not.’

  ‘Oh.’ She wasn’t sure what to think. Had he discussed her with the group?

  As if he could read her mind, he reached across to touch her hand. ‘Relax. Hayley’s loud but she’s harmless. I get the impression she’s ignored at home, so she comes to the centre to get some attention.’

  ‘And you give it to her, by letting her nose about your private life?’

  ‘I’m not sure I let her,’ he countered mildly. ‘More that she bulldozes her way in.’

  Maggie eyed him curiously. ‘Most men would tell her to mind her own business.’

  He shrugged his wide shoulders. ‘I’m not that private a person.’

  And there it was, yet another reason to not just like him, but really like him. He was this cool, easy-going guy who didn’t seem to have a side to him. He wasn’t annoyed or irritated by the small things that wound most people up: lateness, nosey questions, having the mick taken out of him. ‘Tell me about why you ended up on a pontoon over the barrier reef?’

  He laughed. ‘I said I wasn’t private. Not that I liked talking about myself.’

  ‘So? I’m interested. Why did you decide to go travelling after university?’

  His eyes drifted away from hers, and towards the window. ‘I didn’t exactly decide. It just sort of happened. All my mates were applying for jobs, but I didn’t know what I wanted to do, and the thought of getting stuck behind a desk so I could say I had a job…’ He shuddered. ‘I’d saved some money from holiday work, and decided to take the summer off and travel for a bit.’ Finally his eyes met hers. ‘The summer just kept stretching. I told myself I’d go back in October, then it was after Christmas. Then it was next year. Before long it became easier to keep travelling than to go home and face reality.’

  She frowned over at him. ‘You make it sound like you took the easy option, but that’s simply not true. It takes guts to go travelling like you did. To stride into the big wide world by yourself. Most of us were too scared to try.’

  ‘Scared? What of?’

  It was so typical of him. He seemed to radiate cheer and optimism. As if he never saw obstacles, or danger. Only opportunities and challenges. ‘Scared of having only ourselves to rely on, of not having enough money, of missing a few steps on the relentless career ladder, of… I don’t know… getting eaten by a shark.’

  Laughter rumbled in his chest. ‘Sharks are given a bad rap.’ Slowly his face sobered. ‘Some people don’t see it like you do. Some think I ran away and then put my head in the sand. That I didn’t want to face responsibility. That I’ve frittered my life away so far and it’s time to man up.’

  For the first time since she’d met him, she heard vulnerability in his voice. ‘What matters is how you see the direction your life is taking. Are you happy?’ She felt the quiver in her voice and had to swallow before she could say the next words. ‘For too many years I did what was expected of me, not what made me happy.’ She supposed she should thank Paul for that insight, because it was only now, looking at Seb, and what was possible, that she realised how far her life with Paul had travelled down the wrong road. ‘I refuse to make that mistake again.’

  Seb searched Maggie’s beautiful eyes, trying to understand what she was trying to tell him. ‘Are you talking about Paul?’

  ‘Yes.’ She eased off the chair and began to clear the table. He knew he should help, but he couldn’t take his eyes off her, and the gorgeous picture she made. Up to now he’d mainly seen her in what he guessed were her work clothes – neat trousers, smart blouses – or her Saturday night Strictly clothes, which seemed to be the one sequinned black top. She always looked elegant, and yeah, beautiful, but a little reserved. Today, in her stretch leggings and baggy jumper, her hair in a youthful ponytail, she looked so much more approachable. And so bloody sexy he was finding it hard to keep his hands off her.

  ‘Paul was, I suppose you’d call it driven.’ She walked to the dishwasher and stacked the plates neatly inside before turning and resting her back against the work top. ‘I loved my job too, so I didn’t think anything of it. It’s only now, when I look back over our marriage, and when I talk to people like you, I realise how much he took away from me. Our life revolved around him, and what he needed. His ambition, his desire to reach the top, dominated everything.’ She paused, seeming to gather herself. ‘The girls have missed out on so many things other families take for granted: holidays, visits to grandparents, family days out.’ Her eyes met his. ‘And I’m starting to realise I’ve missed out on so much, too.’

  Seb’s heart knocked against his ribs. It wasn’t so much what she said, as what her eyes seemed to be telling him. But he couldn’t afford to misread their message, not now she was opening up to him.

  ‘These things you’ve missed out on.’ He stood slowly and walked towards her. ‘Are there any I can help you with?’

  And no, he wasn’t mistaking the way her pulse was hammering in her throat.

  ‘Yes.’ Her voice was a whisper, but her eyes, now a stormy grey, didn’t leave his.

  He couldn’t explain how honoured he felt that she was allowing him to show her. ‘I want to kiss you again. Shit, I need to kiss you. Can I?’

  She cleared her throat. ‘Please.’

  With a groan of hunger, of desperation, he pulled her into his arms, his mouth settling over hers, his tongue sliding between her parted lips.

  Weeks of dancing with her, of watching as she laughed with his sisters, or fantasising about her as he lay in bed, all came to a head. ‘Is this okay?’ he asked as he ran his hand under her jumper, finding her soft, warm skin.

  ‘It’s better than okay.’

  Her words were like petrol on a bonfire. Angling his head, he kissed her more deeply, his tongue, his hands, seeking and stroking, his hips pushing against hers, finding her core, her heat.

  ‘The kitchen works for me,’ he breathed between more long, drugging kisses. ‘Or the sofa. But I’m better in a bed.’

  Her felt her mouth smile beneath his. ‘Promises, promises.’

  Drawing back, he held her face in his hands. ‘Let me show you.’ There were so many ways he wasn’t right for this incredible woman, so many things he couldn’t give her, but making her feel good… that he could do.

  Cheeks flushed, her eyes glittering, she nodded, but as she started to walk, he halted her with his hand. Then swept her into his arms like he had the other day.

  ‘Oh God, no, you can’t do this.’ Instead of struggling though, she slipped her hands around his neck.

  ‘Are you doubting my athleticism?’<
br />
  She laughed, pressing her face to his neck as he began to stride up the stairs. ‘I’m doubting your sanity. I’m not—’

  ‘As light as you look.’ Five steps from the top, and he was starting to regret the gesture. Shit, what if he dropped her? ‘Do you bounce?’

  That started her giggling, and if there was one thing harder than carrying a lady upstairs, it was carrying one who was wriggling. Especially as her breasts kept pushing against his chest. His knees were moments away from giving up when he reached the final stair. ‘Thank Christ for that.’

  ‘Oh God, this is crazy.’ She shook her head, but laughter shone from her eyes. ‘I’ve gone crazy. This isn’t what a nearly forty-year-old mum should be doing.’

  It niggled him that she kept mentioning her age, especially when she rounded it up. It was like she was reminding him this was just temporary insanity on her part. ‘Why not, Mags?’ He asked as he found her bedroom and laid her carefully on the bed. ‘Why should age or having children be a barrier to doing anything you want to do?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ she whispered, intelligent grey eyes scanning his face. ‘I don’t want them to be.’

  ‘Then that’s half the battle.’ With one quick movement, he shrugged off his shirt.

  ‘Wow.’ Her gaze wandered over his bare chest. ‘That’s a lot more muscles than I’m used to.’

  Laughing softly, he took hold of her hand and placed it on his chest.

  Her eyes widened. ‘Your heart is racing.’

  He could have blamed the workout he’d had carrying her up the stairs, but he knew it had been hammering away before that. ‘I want you.’

  In what he’d like to bet was an unconscious gesture, she licked her lips. ‘I want you, too. But I’m scared I won’t be what you’re expecting.’