Just Physical (12 page)

God, Crash had never wanted to kiss someone so badly. The desire to feel Jill's lips against hers was almost a physical ache. She wanted to throw caution to the wind and pull Jill into her arms. Only the knowledge of what it might do to their brand-new friendship stopped her.
Don't. She doesn't want to get involved, and neither should you.

Jill pushed away and slid to her side of the couch.

“I'm sorry,” Crash said. “I shouldn't have—”

Jill lifted her hands, then shoved them beneath her thighs as if she had trouble controlling herself too. “It's okay. I just… I hate being tickled.”

“I won't do it again,” Crash promised, knowing they weren't just talking about tickling.

For a moment, Crash thought Jill would get up and leave, but finally, Jill asked, “Have you ever considered giving up your job and doing something else for a living?”

Careful not to let their bodies come into contact again, Crash answered, “Never.”

“Not even after that fire stunt?” Jill asked.

“Not even then.” Crash smiled crookedly. “I guess growing up with five brothers made me determined to never give up, even if it might be crazy at times. What about you?”

Jill shook her head. “I grew up with just one brother, so I might have some sanity left.”

“No, I mean… Did you ever consider giving up acting and doing something else for a living?”

“Never,” Jill said.

“Not even when you had to work nights at a diner so you could go to cattle calls during the day—assuming that's what you had to do.”

“Oh, yeah. I did. But no, not even then.” Jill tilted her head and smiled at Crash. “Maybe I'm a little crazy after all.”

“I think all actresses are a bit crazy. I mean, you have to be just a little off your rocker to make it in this town.”

“Oh, just actresses? While stuntwomen are perfectly sane and normal, of course.”

Crash gave a dignified nod. “Of course.”

Jill reached over and pinched her, but Crash didn't retaliate, too conscious of the sensations that had coursed through her during their tickle match. No sense in torturing herself.

“I admit it's hard sometimes,” Jill said after a minute or two, her voice pitched so low that Crash had to strain to hear her.

Crash slid a bit closer so she could catch her words. “What do you mean?”

“The cattle calls,” Jill said. “They're called that for a reason. Hundreds of actors being herded in, just waiting for the casting directors to slaughter them.”

Crash nodded. “I've been in a few of them.”

“Really? I didn't know stuntwomen had to audition too. Or did you try out acting?”

“God, no. I prefer to make the actresses look good instead of working in front of the camera.”

“Why the cattle calls, then?” Jill asked.

“The casting directors are looking for stunt people who closely match the looks of the leading actresses. Sometimes, they take just one look at you and dismiss you without even glancing at your resume. It's demeaning.”

Standing in the middle of a sterile room, being paraded around in front of the blank-faced casting directors and producers who were looking her over, just to dismiss her for the size of her breasts or her hair color… Even for someone like Crash, who had never suffered from lack of self-confidence, it had been a crushing experience at times. The thought of anyone treating Jill with anything less than respect and admiration made her clench her fists until her nails dug into her palms.

“Yeah,” Jill said. “It's the same for actresses. But you know what I hate even more? When the casting director smiles at me, and I can tell he and the producers really loved me for the role I'm reading for.”

Crash cocked her head. “I thought that was good.”

“It would be if one of them didn't start to whisper to the others, which makes them stop smiling and start regarding me with that mix of pity, curiosity, and discomfort on their faces. And the casting director who loved me a second ago suddenly tells me I'm not right for the role after all.”

“Why would…?” Then it hit her. “You mean they don't hire you because you have MS?”

Jill nodded.

“They can't do that! It's against the law!” Rage bubbled up, heating Crash's chest and cheeks.

A tired smile tugged on Jill's lips. “They don't come right out and say it's because of the MS, of course. They just say I'm not the right type for the role. Not the healthy type, they mean.” She shrugged. “Part of me can understand it, you know? Movies are expensive. No one wants to take the risk of having one of the leads or an actress playing an important supporting character drop out mid-filming.”

“But that's just not fair!” Crash sputtered, her words nearly jumbling together. “You work harder than any other actress I know. You never ask for a break, even when you look like you're about to fall over. You would even do your own stunts if they let you.”

“I'm glad they don't,” Jill said after a moment's hesitation. She nibbled her bottom lip as if the admission had cost her a lot.

“Because otherwise, you wouldn't have met me?” Crash asked with a grin, trying to get some levity back into the conversation and make Jill smile.

It worked. Jill grinned and playfully rolled her eyes at Crash. “Yeah, because I would have missed out on the company of your charming self. But seriously, some of the stuff you do… I couldn't do that, even if Ben and Floyd let me.”

“You think the other actresses like Nikki and Shawn can?” Crash shook her head. “That's what we stuntwomen are for.”

“I'm not talking about the dangerous stunts. I'm talking about scenes in which Lucy is supposed to stumble over a bedpan or run up a flight of stairs. I can't do that anymore, at least not if the director wants a dozen takes.”

She looked so sad and discouraged that Crash wanted to take her into her arms and comfort her, but she had a feeling Jill wouldn't like it. She'd mistake it for pity.

Helplessly, Crash searched for the right words to make things better but then realized that anything she said would be just empty platitudes. “You know what?” she finally said. “Having MS really sucks.”

Jill blinked three times in rapid succession. Then she burst out laughing.

The sound of her laughter made Crash smile and chased away the sadness that had settled over her. “But,” Crash said, nudging Jill's shoulder to get her attention, “you're still you. You're still a great actress and a wonderful woman, and nothing, not even the MS, can change that.”

In the sudden silence, Jill's sharp inhale sounded overly loud.

Just as Crash was about to apologize for her sappy words, Jill reached out and gently touched Crash's face with her fingertips. She moved closer, as if to kiss her.

Crash's heartbeat picked up in anticipation.
Oh yes, please.

But then, instead of kissing her, Jill wrapped both arms around her and pulled her close. “Thank you,” she whispered against Crash's ear. She clutched her almost painfully. “I think I really needed to hear that.”

“I really meant it,” Crash whispered. Her chest felt tight, not just from the embrace, but from the emotions lodged there.

“I know. That's why it means so much.” Jill took a deep breath, let go, and got up as if suddenly overwhelmed by their closeness. “It's getting late, and I still need to run some errands. Will you be okay on your own?”

Crash watched her retreat to the door but knew better than to follow her. “Yeah, of course.” She put a hand on her belly, which had settled down—if you didn't count the flutters caused by Jill's closeness.

“Good,” Jill said. “Do you want me to pick you up tomorrow morning since your car is still in the studio lot?”

Crash knew she could have gotten her friend TJ to drive her, since he was working on a nearby movie set, but she was looking forward to spending more time with Jill. “That would be great. Thanks.”

“Would seven be okay?”

“Sure.”

Jill opened the door and turned back around. “Thanks for…um, the coffee.”

“It was the least I could do after you rescued me and drove me home.”

They nodded at each other from across the room. Then the door closed behind Jill with a quiet click.

Crash sank down onto the couch until she lay flat on her back.
Jeez. What was that?
She rubbed her face with both hands. If she continued like that, she'd get burned for sure—and it probably wouldn't be during a fire stunt.

CHAPTER 8

Jill kept an eye on
Crash the next day. She seemed to be back to normal, joking around with her colleagues, unaffected by the heat and the shooting schedule.

Well, that makes one of us.

In today's scenes, Lucy Sharpe, the doctor she played, had to hurry through the burning city, chased by an inferno of fire and smoke.

Floyd and Ben wanted things to look as realistic as possible, so they opted for actual fires whenever they could, computer-generating only the burning of entire buildings and historic landmarks.

She breathed a sigh of relief when Floyd declared the last scene of the day a wrap. A thrumming sensation shot up and down her left leg. It felt as if she had her cell phone on vibrate shoved deeply into her pocket. She ignored the buzzing feeling, grateful that her leg had otherwise held up okay and she hadn't needed the foot brace today.

Lauren jogged up to her just as she was about to enter the wardrobe trailer. She was carrying a bag from Jill's favorite Chinese restaurant.

“Hey there, screenwriter lady. I see you remembered our dinner date.” Jill eyed the bulging bag. “Is Grace joining us, or are you just really hungry?”

“Uh, neither. I think I went a bit overboard when I ordered because I felt guilty,” Lauren said with a sheepish expression.

Jill narrowed her eyes at her. “You didn't change the script and have poor Lucy die some horrible death in the end, did you?”

Lauren laughed. “No, nothing like that. I promise not to kill Lucy off. But this has to do with script changes. Floyd wants me to rewrite some of tomorrow's dialogue, so I'll have to give you a rain check on dinner.”

Jill tsked and shook her head. “What is it with women and rain checks lately?” It was out before she could think about it.

Of course, Lauren immediately picked up on it. “Women?” she repeated with a grin. “Are you saying the great Jill Corrigan asked someone out and was rejected or at least put off to another day?”

“No! I mean…no. It wasn't like that. Actually, I was the one handing out the rain check, but it was just for a conversation with a friend.”

“That friend wouldn't, by any chance, have the most gorgeous blue eyes on the planet?”

A tell-tale blush swept up Jill's neck. She stared at Lauren, caught off guard. She hadn't known that Lauren had met Crash. And since when did her happily partnered friend comment on the gorgeous eyes of other women? Then it dawned on her. Lauren wasn't talking about Crash; she was talking about Grace, of course. “Uh, no. Grace said she'd invite me over for your world-famous hot dogs after we return from San Francisco.”

Lauren laughed. “Oh, yeah, they're haute cuisine.”

“Anything I don't have to cook myself sounds great,” Jill said.

That made Lauren sober. “I'm sorry I don't have time to have dinner with you. I'll invite you to my favorite Chinese place in Chinatown when we fly to San Francisco on Monday. But for now…” She handed over the takeout bag. “Pig out on the shrimp wontons, cream cheese rangoons, orange beef, sweet-and-sour spare ribs, and moo shu vegetables.”

When Lauren said good-bye and hurried off, Jill stared down at the ton of food. No way could she eat all of that on her own.
Should I…?
She glanced over at the stunt trailer, where she knew Crash was checking the equipment she would use in next week's scenes. It startled her a little how well she knew Crash's habits already. After their emotionally intense conversation—not to mention their little tickle fest—yesterday, should she really get even closer by inviting her to dinner?

She snorted at herself. It was lukewarm Chinese takeout in her trailer, not an invitation to a romantic little restaurant. They had agreed to be friends, so having dinner together wasn't a big deal.

Decision made, she entered the wardrobe trailer to finally get rid of her costume before heading over to the stunt trailer.

Crash walked down the two rows of metal shelves on either side of the thirty-foot stunt trailer, past fall pads, wire rigs, air ratchets, and a mini trampoline.

When she passed the fire stunt equipment, the sight of the heat-resistant hood and a one-gallon bucket of fire gel made her shiver.
Don't think about it. One barfing episode was more than enough.

There would be enough time to worry about the big fire stunt in the weeks to come. For now, she would focus on the gags she'd have to do in San Francisco. At the end of the trailer, she found the jerk vest she would wear for one of the stunts and ran her fingertips over each strap and pick point, making sure the nylon wasn't frayed.

From the open door of the trailer, the tantalizing scent of sweet-and-sour sauce and stir-fried vegetables drifted over, making her stomach growl.

“Oh, come on, Rick. That's just cruel,” she said without turning around. “What do I need to do to get you to share with your poor, starved colleague?”

“Hmm, I'll have to think of something.” The voice behind her definitely didn't belong to Rick, their stunt rigger.

Crash let go of the jerk vest and whirled around.

Jill was standing on the top step of the stunt trailer. She had already changed out of her costume and was wearing a pair of low-rise jeans and a green T-shirt that said “my other T-shirt has a really funny slogan.” Crash allowed her gaze to linger on the text for a moment, just because she found it funny, not because she was ogling Jill's attractive curves.

Yeah, right. Who do you think you're fooling?
She forced her gaze to Jill's face.

Her stage makeup had been removed, revealing the cute freckles dusting Jill's nose. A grin made her green eyes sparkle.

Whenever Crash saw her like that, it was hard for her to believe that Jill had a chronic illness. She mentally chastised herself.
Oh, because all chronically ill people are required to look like they're at death's door, right?

Jill held up a large bag with the logo of a Chinese restaurant. “Have you had dinner yet? I know you normally try to eat healthy, but…can I tempt you?”

“Oh, yeah. You can tempt me any time,” Crash said with a playful leer.

Jill took a fortune cookie from the bag and threw it at her.

With her quick reflexes, Crash was able to catch it before it hit her in the nose. Grinning, she unwrapped it, put the two pieces into her mouth, and crunched happily. She shoved the wrapper along with the tiny slip of paper into the pocket of her jeans to toss it later.

“Aren't you going to read your fortune?” Jill asked.

“Nope. Not the day before a stunt.” She shrugged. The tips of her ears burned with embarrassment. “Stunt people are a superstitious bunch.”

Jill's face showed no judgment. “I think most people who risk their lives on a regular basis are. I once knew a race-car driver who wouldn't race without wearing a green article of clothing.”

They headed over to Jill's trailer. Sitting side by side on the couch, they passed the containers of food back and forth until even the last noodle and the last shrimp were gone.

After the intense conversation yesterday, it was nice to just spend some time together and regale each other with funny anecdotes about things that had happened on movie sets.

“Oh, God.” Jill dropped against the back of the couch. “I'll have to sleep here. I'm so full I can't move.”

Crash folded her hands over her pleasantly full belly and sprawled out her legs. “Thanks for dinner. It was great.”

Jill nodded and closed her eyes. She looked as if she was going into post-meal hibernation.

At least it gave Crash ample opportunity to study her without being caught. She took in Jill's shiny red hair. Even her fine eyebrows and her lashes were a deep auburn. Except for the smattering of freckles across her slightly upturned nose, her skin was clear. It looked so soft and smooth that Crash's fingers were itching to touch it. As Jill relaxed, her full lips parted. Crash swallowed as her gaze lingered on that lush mouth. It took her several seconds to realize that those lips were moving and Jill was talking to her. “Uh, excuse me?”

“I asked if you want the second fortune cookie.” Jill opened her eyes. Her pupils widened.

Only then did Crash realize that she'd moved closer to Jill while she'd studied her features. Now their faces were mere inches apart.

“Uh, you have a little…” Her heart beating faster, Crash reached out and picked a tiny bit of ash out of Jill's hair.

“Oh. Thanks. The production crew had ash raining down on me all day, and it seems some of it—”

Crash stopped her rambling by touching her lips to Jill's.

Jill froze. Her hands came up and clutched Crash's shoulders.

Crash paused too, only now fully comprehending what she'd done. She knew she should really pull back and apologize, but with the warmth of Jill's lips against hers, reason didn't stand a chance.

For several seconds, Crash wasn't sure whether Jill would push her away or draw her closer.

Jill didn't look too sure of it either. She pulled back just a fraction of an inch. “Please, Crash,” she whispered against Crash's lips.

Her warm breath against her skin made Crash shudder. “Please…what? What are you asking for?” she whispered back and looked into Jill's eyes. Did Jill want her to stop—or to kiss her again?

Passion swirled in the green irises. “Hell if I know,” Jill muttered, pulled her close, and kissed her.

Crash's hands went to Jill's face and cradled it gently. She slid her tongue over Jill's bottom lip, teasing, asking, then demanding.

Jill surged against her and willingly opened her mouth.

At the first touch of their tongues, Crash's eyes fluttered shut. Her groan mingled with Jill's drawn-out moan, the sound making Crash tingle all over.

Jill clutched Crash's shoulders almost desperately before moving her fingers up, into Crash's hair, to pull her even closer. She kissed Crash as if she wanted to rip her clothes off, throw her down on the couch, and worship every inch of her body right then and there.

Their tongues slid against each other, stroking, seeking.

Heat engulfed Crash. She trailed her hands down, letting them roam up and down Jill's back. Closer. She wanted her closer. God, this woman was driving her crazy.

Jill's fingers tightened in her hair. Then, with a gasp, she wrenched her lips away.

Surprised, Crash nearly collided with her and caught herself with one hand against the back of the couch. Breathing heavily, she stared at Jill, who was licking her lips.

Jill looked just as dazed as Crash felt. “I…I need to cool down.”

“Yeah,” Crash croaked huskily. She fanned herself with both hands. “Me too. Jesus, that was hot.”

A hint of a smile dashed across Jill's face and then disappeared. “No, I mean I really need to cool down. My legs are tingling, and it has nothing to do with your kissing skills. I need to turn up the AC.”

Not really what Crash wanted to hear after a kiss like that, but maybe they could share another kiss once Jill's body temperature had gone down a bit. “Let me—”

Jill lifted her hand. “I've got it.” She pushed up from the couch and crossed the trailer. The first two steps looked timid, as if her legs were shaky.

Crash hoped that at least some of it was from their kisses. Her gaze tracked Jill as she moved to the control panel next to the door and turned the air-conditioning to full blast. Her whole body vibrated with the need to pull Jill back into her arms and kiss her again.

Are you crazy? You agreed to be friends. The non-lesbian kind. That's all she wants and all you can give.
But that didn't stop her from hoping Jill would lock the trailer door and proceed to kiss her silly again.

When Jill returned, she didn't sit next to her. She stopped just out of reach and looked down at Crash. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that.”

Those weren't the words that Crash had longed to hear. Truth be told, she didn't know what she wanted to hear. What kind of future could there be for them? She cleared her throat. “No. I'm the one who should apologize. I kissed you first.”

“Yeah, but I kissed you back, even though I knew better,” Jill said, her voice rough. “I'm sorry. I never meant to lead you on. It won't happen again.”

Jill clearly meant it as a promise, but to Crash, it sounded more like a threat. She stood and took a step toward Jill. “I don't know.” She took a deep breath. “Maybe we should talk about it. Obviously, there's something between us.” There, she'd said it.

“There is no
us,
Crash. Just let it go, okay? I like spending time with you as a friend, and I don't want this stupid kiss to ruin that.”

“Stupid kiss?” The words stung.

Jill sighed. “You're a damn good kisser, and I admit I enjoyed it. But it was still stupid.”