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tussle for the weapon.” He turned and looked at Crash. “Can you show her?”
    â€œSure.” Crash shrugged out of her leather jacket so she could move more freely. “I can even teach her how to fall safely if she wants to do the stunt herself.” She looked back and forth between Ben and Jill, careful not to make the same mistake as before and assume that Jill wouldn’t want to do any of her own stunts.
    Jill opened her mouth, but before she could answer, Ben shook his head and said, “No, I’d rather you do it. Just show her what she needs to do so we can shoot the close-ups with her.”
    What the hell was going on? Crash was used to producers and directors hesitating to allow their actors to do their own stunts, but this seemed a bit over the top. By now, Crash doubted that the director was so overprotective of Jill because they were lovers. Maybe it was just wishful thinking, but her gaydar kept insisting that Jill was a lesbian. Even if she wasn’t, she didn’t seem to be the type who would allow herself to be coddled while at work.
    But now wasn’t the time to solve this puzzle. Crash grabbed the branch with both hands. “You swing it like you would a baseball bat. Like this.” She demonstrated and then handed over the branch for Jill to try.
    Jill swung the branch, looking as if she’d done it a thousand times before.
    Maybe she really is a lesbian. After all, we’re supposed to be good at softball. Crash grinned to herself.
    â€œWhat?” Jill asked.
    â€œNothing.” She led Jill over to the tent so they could practice right where they would shoot the scene. “Now take a swing at me.”
    Jill hesitated.
    â€œDon’t worry. You won’t hurt me. I’ll block it.”
    Halfheartedly, Jill tried to hit her with the branch.
    Crash blocked it, grabbed the branch, and pulled.
    Their bodies collided, with both of them holding on to the branch. “He tries to take the makeshift weapon from you, but you refuse to let go.” She tugged on the branch, pulling Jill even closer. The ruffles of Jill’s chemise brushed Crash’s chest, and she caught a whiff of Jill’s perfume, nearly making her lose her grip on the branch.
    â€œLike this?”
    â€œYes, exactly,” Crash said, annoyed with herself for sounding so breathless. “He slowly pushes you toward the tent post until you can’t back up anymore.” She did it.

    Jill’s back hit the tent post, but she hardly even noticed; she was too busy staring into Crash’s ice-blue eyes, which looked fierce and wild in the spotlights filtering in through the tent walls.
    â€œAnd then?” she asked. Why was her voice so hoarse? Get yourself together, or Ben will think you either have the hots for Crash or aren’t fit enough to do this simple scene.
    â€œAnd then,” Crash said, “he grabs the branch with both hands and presses it to your throat.” With Jill still holding on to the middle of the branch, Crash grabbed it at both ends, brought it up horizontally, and laid it against Jill’s throat, exerting only the slightest pressure.
    They stared at each other, their hands touching on the branch, their faces only inches apart.
    Crash licked her lips as if her mouth had suddenly gone dry, and Jill mirrored the gesture.
    Are you crazy? She tried to shake herself out of it. She had no business lusting after anyone, least of all a woman who was so physically active and full of energy. A woman who most likely had no idea that Jill had MS and that she would end up a burden, not an equal partner.
    For Christ’s sake, she’d just fallen asleep in her car when all she’d wanted to do was get her jacket. Until someone found a cure for MS or at least the goddamn fatigue, she would never be able to keep up with someone like Crash.
    She let go of the branch and slid out from between Crash and the tent pole. Distance. She needed some