by Jae
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.”
“Why?”
“Oh, come on, Crash. Don’t make this harder on me than it has to be. You know why. I told you I don’t do relationships.”
“Who’s talking about a relationship? We could…I don’t know…maybe go out on a date or something?” Even to her own ears, it sounded like a question, not a suggestion. She couldn’t say what exactly it was she wanted; she just knew it involved more than friendship.
“And then?”
Crash kneaded the tense muscles in her neck. “I don’t know. But—”
“No, Crash. It has no future. Let’s just forget this ever happened.”
If only it were that easy. Crash didn’t think she’d ever forget the feeling of Jill’s lips against hers.
“We won’t have many scenes to film together in San Francisco,” Jill said. “Let’s take that time to get some distance, and then we’ll be able to be just friends again when we’re back.”
From your lips to God’s ear. “If that’s what you want.”
“That’s what I want,” Jill said, but somehow, there was no passionate conviction behind the words.
“All right.” Not knowing what else to do, Crash got up and walked to the door. She hesitated, not wanting to leave, but what else was there to say? “I guess I’ll see you at the airport, then.”
Jill nodded, her lips compressed to a line. “See you.”
Slowly, Crash opened the door. A part of her waited for Jill to call her back, but, of course, it didn’t happen. The door closing between them sounded very final.
CHAPTER 9
For once, Jill was glad that their cast consisted of mostly B-list actors. It made traveling to a location shoot so much easier. A year ago, things would have been very different. Back then, paparazzi had followed her wherever she went, trying to get a snapshot of Grace Durand’s supposed lover and shouting a barrage of intrusive questions.
Once Jill had revealed that she and Grace hadn’t been caught sneaking into her trailer for a quickie, but that Grace had merely helped her up the stairs, the tabloid sharks had lost interest.
A secret lesbian affair was great gossip rag fodder; one friend helping another apparently wasn’t.
Now, as she entered the terminal at LAX with Floyd, Shawn, Nikki, and their stunt doubles, the paparazzi only snapped a picture or two and then left them alone. The technical crew had driven up to San Francisco the day before, transporting the equipment, so their group didn’t draw much attention.
When they reached the gate and settled down to wait for boarding to begin, Jill immed
iately took her battered script out of her laptop bag and started studying her lines—or at least pretending to look at them. Pins-and-needles sensations had kept her up for most of the night, so she was too tired to make conversation with her colleagues. Most of all, she was trying to avoid talking to one colleague in particular.
Every now and then, she peeked up from the script and over to Crash, who sat across from her to the left, her legs sprawled out comfortably in front of her. Sunglasses hid her dazzling blue eyes, so Jill couldn’t see where she was looking. She quickly directed her attention back to her script. But she couldn’t focus today. She glanced toward the large terminal window. The sun had burned away the June Gloom, and now the tarmac shimmered with heat.
She watched the planes land and take off for a while and then went back to the script. Instead of the lines she was supposed to memorize, the only thing going through her mind were the words she and Crash had said to each other right after the kiss.
The kiss. God. What the hell had she been thinking? Okay, admittedly, there hadn’t been much thinking going on as other parts of her body had taken over. Up until now, staying away from women hadn’t been a problem at all. She’d spent the last two years adjusting to the MS and trying to save her career after the double outing. Romance had been the last thing on her mind.
And that isn’t allowed to change, she firmly told herself. She and Crash didn’t have a future, so she had to stay away from her.
But Crash’s words kept echoing through her mind: Who’s talking about a relationship? We could…I don’t know…maybe go out on a date or something.
A date… Could that be an option? Just dating, without a commitment? She imagined having dinner with Crash—this time not just sharing Chinese takeout but spending the evening at a nice restaurant with low music in the background and a candle on the table. She could almost feel Crash’s hand resting on hers, stroking her fingers.
With a shake of her head, she chased the image away. As nice as a date with Crash would be, it wouldn’t be long before Crash would want something more meaningful. She’d want to share more of her life than just romantic dinners every now and then. But sharing Jill’s life meant living with MS—and she didn’t want that for Crash.
“You okay?” Lauren asked next to her.
Jill turned toward her. “Uh, yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Because you have been staring at the same page of the script for the last half hour. I hope there’s nothing wrong with it.” Fine lines of worry carved themselves into Lauren’s forehead.
“Oh, no. No, the scene is perfectly fine. I love how Lucy is not taking shit from the male doctors.”
Lauren grinned. “I thought you’d like that.” She sobered. “So, if it’s not the script, what is it, then?”
“Nothing. I just—”
The crackling loudspeakers interrupted her. “Attention, passengers,” the gate attendant said. “Flight 2760 to San Francisco is now boarding at gate 5. We’re now inviting our first-class passengers and passengers who need assistance to board.”
Glad for the interruption, Jill stood, grabbed her carry-on, and got into the queue at the boarding gate.
Lauren followed her. “Don’t think you’re getting rid of me that easily. What’s going on?” She leaned closer and lowered her voice. “Is it the MS? Are you having trouble with your eyes or something?”
No, with my heart. Or at least my damn libido. “My eyes are just fine. I’m tired and a little nervous; that’s all.”
“Ah.” Lauren nodded as if she’d had a sudden realization. “Right. Grace said you hate flying.”
Jill didn’t bother to correct her. It was true, after all, even though it wasn’t the reason why she’d been distracted.
“So, what are you doing with Tramp while you’re gone?” Lauren asked as they were walking down the Jetway.
“Susana is taking care of him. She’s probably going to spoil him rotten.”
They boarded the plane and took their seats beside each other in the first-class section.
But before Jill could get comfortable next to Lauren, Floyd, who sat behind them, leaned over the back of her seat. “Would you mind switching seats with me, Jill? I need to talk to Lauren about the Lotta’s Fountain scene.”
“Sure.” Jill gathered her script and her laptop bag and squeezed past Floyd in the aisle. About to slide into the seat he had vacated, she paused when she caught a glimpse of her new neighbor.
Crash stared back, looking just as startled as Jill felt. She had shoved her sunglasses up to rest on her head, so her deer-in-headlights look was quite obvious.
So much for staying away from her for the week.
“Uh, are you okay with sitting with me?” Crash asked.
“Of course,” Jill said, using her acting skills to appear at ease. “Why wouldn’t it be okay? I’m used to Lauren abandoning me for another seatmate.”
Lauren squawked her protest from the seat in front of them and turned around. “Hey, you offered to switch seats with me the one and only time I was on a plane with you.”
“Yeah, because I didn’t want to stand in the way of true love.”
“Please. There was nothing going on between Grace and me back then,” Lauren said. “I thought she was the very straight star of hetero romances.”
Other passengers started to board, so they fell silent.
Jill bent to stash her laptop bag under the seat in front of her. She sensed Crash’s gaze on her, so intense that it felt almost like a touch. After ignoring it as long as she could, she finally straightened and turned to her.
“Grace, the very straight star of hetero romances,” Crash repeated, her voice so low that no one but Jill could hear. “She’s not talking about…?”
“Grace Durand? Yes, she is. Grace is my best friend and Lauren’s girlfriend. Didn’t you read any of the gossip rags last year?”
Crash shook her head. “I try to stay away from all press about female stars. If the actress I’m risking my life for is a real bitch, I’d rather not know.”
That made sense. Jill tilted her head in approval.
“So Grace Durand is gay?” Crash let out a low whistle. “Wow. I had no idea.”
“Neither did she,” Jill said with a grin.
“Apparently not, or she wouldn’t have given a press conference claiming she was only a straight friend helping you out,” Crash mumbled.
Jill turned her head in her direction. “I thought you stayed away from gossip rags?”
Was that a hint of red entering Crash’s tan cheeks? “Uh, yeah, I just…I came across an article about your coming out.”
“Came across?” Jill repeated with a disbelieving look.
“Yeah. Completely by coincidence.”
Coincidence. Right. Jill bit back a grin.
“Stop grinning.” Crash nudged her. “Okay, so I Googled you.”
Maybe Jill should have disliked it, but she actually found herself flattered. At least she wasn’t the only one failing miserably at pretending not to be interested.
A flight attendant stopped in the aisle next to them and offered them a pre-flight drink. Many of the people around them had ordered wine, beer, or scotch, but since her diagnosis, Jill had become wary of the effects alcohol had on her. Unlike her youth, when she had been able to stay up all night, partying and drinking, now a beer or two would get her drunk and make her feel like hell the next day.
“Just a Diet Coke, please,” she told the flight attendant.
Crash ordered water. As the flight attendant handed them their beverages and moved past them down the aisle, she studied Jill over the rim of her glass. “That press conference you gave last year…”
“What about it?”
“It wasn’t something you’d planned well in advance, was it?”
“No. The press forced my hand.
I wasn’t in a hurry to tell anyone about the MS.”
Crash wiped a bit of water from her bottom lip and nodded thoughtfully. “Yet you stepped in front of the press and told them anyway. You did it for Ms. Durand, didn’t you?”
Jill shrugged. “The gossip rags kept reporting that Grace and I had something going on, just because they’d seen her help me to my trailer. I couldn’t allow my MS to hurt her career.”
“So you sacrificed yourself, just the way you’re sacrificing your own happiness so you won’t burden a potential partner down the road,” Crash commented.
Jill reached out and trailed a bead of condensation down the side of her Coke before looking back at Crash. “What else could I do?”
“I don’t know. It was a damn brave thing to do, but then Ms. Durand turned out to be gay after all, so you basically risked your career for nothing. Doesn’t that make you angry?”
Jill thought about it for a moment. It was a valid question. Amazing that no one had ever asked her about it before. “No, not really,” she finally answered.
“Not really?” Crash drawled, her Texas accent becoming more pronounced.
“In the end, she probably did me a favor by forcing me to reveal it to the public. Trying to hide my symptoms was getting pretty exhausting.”
“I can imagine. Then why did you do it? Hide that you have MS, I mean.”
Jill shrugged. “I didn’t even tell my family or most of my friends until nine months after the diagnosis, so the public certainly didn’t deserve to know either.”
Crash’s eyes widened. “Wow. I can’t imagine keeping something like that from my family. Didn’t you need…or want their support during a time like that?”
“No,” Jill said immediately. It hadn’t even occurred to her to ask anyone for help or comfort. Her family had never been a source of either. “I was fine on my own. There wasn’t much they could have done anyway.”
Instead of accepting that answer, as her parents had done when she’d finally told them, Crash continued to look at her.
Jill struggled not to avert her gaze. She felt as if she’d given Crash some access into her heart and mind last week, and now that door was still ajar, enabling Crash to see much too deep.
