Just Physical (18 page)

“Yeah. Sarah punched you like a boxing champion, not like a refined lady from 1906. We need to tone it down a little to make it believable.”

Why hadn't he thought of that before making her jump into the water? Crash suppressed a sigh. “Okay. I'll get changed into a dry costume and then let's go again.” She walked over to the wardrobe trailer they had set up nearby.

Sagging racks of dresses, blouses, trousers, chemises, and coats stretched along two walls. Shoes and boots of all sizes were lined up on a shelf, while hats filled the opposite wall.

The costume assistant was busy helping another actress into her corset—and not just any actress.

Even from behind, Crash recognized her immediately. She'd spent the night worshipping that body after all.

She paused in the doorway, riveted by the sight of creamy skin and gleaming, coppery hair piled up onto her head.

The costume assistant threw her an annoyed look. “Come in or stay out. Either way, close the door.”

Quickly, Crash entered and closed the door behind her.

Jill glanced over her shoulder. A hint of red crept up her neck. “Oh. Hi.”

“Hi.” Crash stood there, her wig with the hat attached in her hands.
Say something.
“Uh, I'm wet.” As soon as the words were out, she wanted to slap herself. God, one night with Jill had reduced her to a bumbling idiot who wasn't capable of opening her mouth without double entendres coming out. She pulled the wet bodice away from her chest. “Uh, I mean, I had to shoot a scene that made me end up in the harbor, and now I need a dry costume.”

“Why don't you strip down, and I'll be with you in a second,” the costume assistant said without looking away from where she was lacing up Jill's corset.

Crash couldn't look away either. If she had thought that the newness would wear off after exploring every inch of that body several times and they could go back to just being friends, she had deluded herself.

Come on. Be a professional.
She forced herself to turn away, stripped off her wet dress, and put it on a hanger. The petticoats and the corset followed. Even the chemise had gotten wet, so she took that off too.

“You need to face away from me for this to work,” the costume assistant told Jill.

A smirk curved Crash's lips. So Jill had watched her undress. Good to know that she wasn't quite out of Jill's system either.

When Jill was dressed, the costume assistant turned toward Crash and took in the wet dress. “Oh. The duplicate is still with Connie for some last-minute repairs. Let me get it.” She squeezed past Crash, and the trailer door fell closed behind her.

Crash swallowed as she unexpectedly found herself alone with Jill.

They stared at each other and then glanced away at the same time.

Now what? She peeked over at Jill. God, she looked great in that dress. With her hair piled up on her head, leaving her neck bare, she appeared somehow vulnerable—or maybe it was the look in her eyes. “Are you okay?” Crash asked softly.

“Would you please stop asking me that?” Jill grumbled and then gentled her tone. “I know you mean well, but all it does is remind me that people…you…see me as an MS patient.”

“I don't…I… That wasn't my intention. I just…care about your well-being.” She stepped around a mannequin so she could see Jill's face better. “Is that so wrong?”

“No. Yes.” She looked at Crash and then quickly averted her gaze as if wanting to avoid staring at her bare breasts. “Crash, we really can't…” Jill tugged on a strand of her hair, nearly making the entire creation come tumbling down. She quickly snatched her hand away and curled it into a fist.

“Why don't we talk about this after work?” Crash said. “We could meet back at the hotel at seven and then take a cable car up to Fisherman's Wharf and…”

A shake of Jill's head made her trail off. “I can't. I'm having dinner in Chinatown with Lauren tonight.”

“Then how about—”

The trailer door opened, and the costume assistant entered with the replacement dress. “Here it is.” When Crash didn't acknowledge her return and kept looking at Jill, she glanced back and forth between them. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes,” they said in unison.

“We were just talking about an agreement we have,” Jill added with a glance at Crash.

No commitment. No promises of a happily-ever-after. No expectations beyond the one night.
Crash gave her a stiff nod.
Message received.
Even though it felt wrong to walk away, it was what they had agreed on, and she knew it was for the best. She was an adrenaline-loving stuntwoman, traveling around the globe to get the most exciting gags. A commitment to someone who might become bound to a wheelchair didn't fit her lifestyle.

Right.
She took the chemise the costume assistant handed her and slipped it over her head.

Even without being able to see, she felt the moment Jill squeezed past her in the narrow space within the trailer.

“Crash?” Jill said from right in front of the door.

“Yes?” Crash struggled to pull the chemise down so she could see her. She held her breath as she waited for what Jill would say.

Jill hesitated. One hand already on the doorknob, she shuffled her feet. “I… Good luck with your scene,” she said, opened the door, and walked down the three steps without looking back.

Crash imagined that she could hear the dress rustling long after the door had closed behind her.

CHAPTER 11

Crash headed straight from the
airport to the playground. That was what she and her friend TJ called his backyard, where he had set up airbags, trampolines, and other equipment for stunt performers who wanted to practice.

He didn't ask why she was so eager to train flips until her legs were so tired she couldn't land safely anymore and then went all out in a sparring session.

Crash hoped that by the time she got home, she'd be so tired that she'd just fall into bed and sleep for the rest of the weekend. On Monday, things would be back to normal. Just business as usual. They would hang out in Jill's trailer between scenes and share a fruit platter in the craft services tent, nothing more.

Two weeks ago, that would have been a pleasant thought, but now it left her feeling dissatisfied.

TJ finally dropped his gloved hands. Sweat darkened his gray muscle shirt. “Who is she?”

Crash looked up from trying to untie her boxing gloves with her teeth. “Who?”

“The woman you're thinking about.”

“What makes you think I'm thinking about a woman?”

He snorted. “Because that was the second time in the last half hour that I nearly broke your nose because you can't focus for shit.”

“I just got a lot of work stuff on my mind,” Crash said.

“Right. Does that work stuff have a name?”

Crash glared at him.

“I hear the girls…”

Another glare from Crash.

“Uh, the women in San Francisco are hot,” he said.

“I didn't notice.” It was true. The only woman she'd looked at lately was Jill.

“Man.” He shook his head at her. “For a stuntwoman, your life is really boring.”

Crash finally managed to strip off her gloves and threw them at him. “You have no idea.”

He took off his own gloves. “Yeah, but only because you refuse to give me any dirt.”

She put him in a headlock and rapped her knuckles against his head. “Oh, you want dirt? I'm happy to oblige.” She tried to drag him down to the ground so she could rub a handful of grass and earth into his face.

He grabbed her, and they both went down, tussling for the upper hand. It was like interacting with her brothers.

Men were just too easy. All you needed to do to divert their attention was to offer beer or to challenge them to a fight. Life would be so much less complicated if she were straight. But then again, she thought with a grin, it would be a lot more boring too.

Finally, TJ with his heavier weight and superior strength managed to pin her to the ground. “So? Want to tell me about this mystery woman now?”

Damn.
So much for men being easily distracted. She knew he wouldn't let her up until she gave him something. “I had a one-night stand in San Francisco,” she said as casually as possible.

“Cool.” He let go of her.

She sat up and shrugged. “I guess.”

“Wow.” He laughed. “With that kind of enthusiasm, she must have been bad.”

“No!” She flicked a handful of dirt at him. “No, it's not about that.”

TJ brushed earth of his sweat-stained muscle shirt. “What is it, then? If you had a great time in bed, why are you in such a shitty mood?”

Crash pushed up off the ground. “I'm not in a shitty mood. I just… I've got a lot on my mind.”

“Ooh, I get it now. You wanted more, and she shot you down.”

“That's not it. Not really.”

“So you don't want more?”

Crash flopped down on the large trampoline in the middle of the backyard. Still bouncing, she stared up into the sky. One of the clouds was shaped like Jill's car. Crash waited until she had stopped moving and took a deep breath. “I do.”

The two words rattled around in her brain, leaving her breathless. It was the truth; she realized. A one-night stand wasn't enough. But the words sounded too much like marriage vows, and that was just crazy. She wasn't ready for that kind of responsibility, was she?

TJ landed next to her, bounding on his belly, and gave her an expectant look.

“I want more, but I don't know what to do about it—or even if I should.”

Groaning, he rolled onto his back, and they lay side by side, looking up at the sky. “Man, women are complicated.”

“Tell me about it,” she muttered.

“I'm the last person on earth you should ask for relationship advice,” TJ finally said. “But if you ask me, you should just stop thinking about it so much. Just get the girl and worry about the rest later.”

“Woman,” Crash said and climbed off the trampoline. Maybe she should take TJ's advice. The next time she saw Jill, she'd sit her down and convince her to give her a chance.

Just a date, with all the other rules still firmly in place. For now. She could handle that.

But first she needed a beer—or two. She headed toward the house and called over her shoulder, “Last one in pays for the pizza.”

This was getting ridiculous. Jill had avoided her since their one-night stand in San Francisco, even going so far as to eat the hot, sit-down meals the catering service offered instead of heading over to the craft services tent at lunch time. It was almost as if she sensed Crash's resolution to ask her out on a date and wanted to avoid the conversation.

For two days, Crash struggled with her emotions in silence. She was angry and hurt at the cold-shoulder treatment, and she missed their easy banter. For a while, she was tempted to just give up. Maybe it wasn't meant to be. But she knew that was her fear talking. If she walked away now, she could blame it all on Jill, not on her own insecurities about getting involved with a chronically ill woman.

Jill wasn't as unaffected as she pretended to be either. Usually, she joked around with Shawn and Nikki in between takes, but now she withdrew into herself when the cameras weren't rolling, putting on her MP3 player so no one would disturb her.

On day three after their return to the LA studio, Crash finally had enough. She gathered her courage, got two bowls of fruit salad and two of the wraps Jill liked, and headed over to Jill's trailer.

Loaded down with food, she used her foot to knock on the door and called, “Jill? Are you there? Can we talk? Look, I even come bearing food.”

But when the door finally opened, it wasn't Jill who stood in front of her.

Crash nearly dropped her offerings when she came face-to-face with Grace Durand. Even though she tried to stay away from Hollywood gossip, there was no mistaking the woman's long, golden hair, luscious curves, and eyes as blue as a tropical ocean. She had seen several actresses without their stage makeup and had been less than impressed, but Grace seemed even more attractive off screen.
Holy shit.

She had known Jill was friends with Grace Durand, of course, but she hadn't expected to find her here, visiting her friend like a mere mortal.

Grace smiled as if she was used to that kind of reaction. “Jill? It seems someone else had the same idea as we did.”

Jill appeared in the doorway next to Grace, a container of Chinese takeout in one hand and chopsticks in the other. Her hair looked as if a bird had tried to nest in it—probably from the ladies' hat and the Gibson-girl-style additions she had worn on set. She was barefoot, and a splash of what looked like sweet-and-sour sauce graced her cheek.

Her appearance was so different from her almost larger-than-life friend that Crash looked back and forth between them. Then she decided that she liked Jill's down-to-earth style better.

“Hi,” Jill said quietly.

“Hi.” They looked at each other, neither of them moving.

Jill eyed the food in Crash's hands. “Oh, wow, what's this? Let's-fatten-up-Jill day?”

Grace poked her in the ribs. “Hardly. We're all just trying to take care of a friend.” She studied Crash with a curious expression. “Right?”

“Right,” Crash said.

“Is that Crash?” Lauren called from inside of the trailer and then stepped up behind her girlfriend. “Hi. Why don't you come in? There's enough food for you too, especially since you brought your own.”

Crash's gaze went from her to Jill. Somehow, she didn't give off the impression that she wanted Crash to come in and mingle with her friends. For a moment, she considered accepting Lauren's invitation anyway, but then she mentally shook her head. By now, she knew Jill well enough to realize that she wouldn't react too well to being backed into a corner. With her friends right there, they wouldn't be able to talk about what was going on between them anyway. “No, thanks. I have to get back to the stunt trailer. I just wanted to bring over some food before the burly grip guys descend on the crafty tent.”

Grace gestured at the food Crash had brought. “Your grips eat fruit salad and wraps? The ones on my sets are always more the junk food types.”

Damn. She's got you there, genius.
Crash shrugged as casually as she could and offered a small grin. “Well, you never know. It's better to be careful than to go hungry.”

“True,” Grace finally said. Her face didn't give away whether she suspected that the food was just a convenient excuse to come over and see Jill.

Crash looked back and forth between Grace and Jill, not sure what to do with her food since Jill had her hands full already.

“Here.” Grace relieved Crash of Jill's half of lunch.

Crash resisted the urge to shuffle her feet on the trailer's top step. She gave Grace a quick nod. “Nice to meet you. Will I see you later, Jill?”

“Um, yes. Thank you,” Jill said quietly. “For the food, I mean.” She looked as if she wanted to say more, but with a glance at her friend who hovered next to her, she kept silent and just white-knuckled her chopsticks.

“You're welcome.” Crash tore herself away from Jill's green eyes, jogged down the three steps, and escaped to the stunt trailer, not sure if she should be relieved or disappointed that their conversation had been delayed.

Jill sank onto the couch next to Lauren and pretended to need all her attention to grab the small pieces of pineapple with her chopsticks.

Grace settled on the floor in front of the couch and casually leaned her head against Lauren's knee. “Wow. Who was that?”

Jill nudged her with her bare toes. “Stop salivating.”

A delighted smile lit up Grace's ocean-blue eyes. “Oooh, you're interested in her!”

“Nonsense,” Jill said firmly. “You know I'm not looking to get involved with anyone.”

“Then why the jealousy?” Grace asked.

“I'm not jealous.” Jill's thoughts raced, trying to come up with an explanation for what she was feeling. It was
not
jealousy. It couldn't be jealousy. “I…I'm just not used to you looking at other women like that. In all the years I've known you, I never had the slightest inkling that you are anything but straight. Heck, you were married to a man!”

Grace shook her head so emphatically that her blonde hair flew back and forth. “I was married, yes, but I wasn't happy.”

Lauren put down her chopsticks and squeezed Grace's shoulder.

Grace instantly tilted her head and pressed her cheek on top of Lauren's hand. “After meeting Lauren, I have a new appreciation of women,” she added.

“God,” Jill said. “Sometimes watching you guys…”

“Makes you long for a relationship of your own?” Grace finished her sentence.

“Makes me want to barf,” Jill said with a grin.

Lauren and Grace bombarded her with fortune cookies, which Jill caught and ate without checking what was written on the tiny pieces of paper.
What? Now you're superstitious too?

“Back to the topic at hand,” Grace said. “You have no reason to be jealous.”

“I told you I'm not jealous.” Jill wasn't jealous of the way Crash had looked at her friend either. She was used to men—and some women—looking at Grace that way. It didn't bother her.
Okay, not much.
“Because there's nothing going on between Crash and me.”