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refused to shoot the stumbling-over-a-bed-pan scene herself, she probably was a bit of a diva. But Crash knew better than to voice her thoughts. She’d have to work with this woman for the next two or three months, after all. “Hi,” she said with her most disarming smile. “Crash Patterson. Nice to meet you.” She held out her hand.
    After a few moments, the actress reached out and accepted her handshake. Her grip was firm. “Jill Corrigan.” She eyed Crash with a small wrinkle on her forehead that was just too adorable. “What kind of name is Crash?”
    â€œThe name of someone who doesn’t mind stumbling over bedpans,” she said and then mentally slapped herself. The quip wouldn’t help establish an amiable working relationship.
    â€œJust to make one thing perfectly clear. I would rather do the scene myself, but Floyd wants to have a stunt person take over. It wasn’t my decision.”
    Crash hadn’t worked with the director before, but he didn’t seem the type who would coddle his actors. Was there something going on between him and the pretty actress, and that was why he didn’t want her to do this very simple stunt? It wouldn’t be the first time a set romance had impacted the production schedule, but Crash didn’t like it. She had never let her private life interfere with her work. In fact, she hadn’t even had a private life her first two years in the business. She’d been too busy introducing herself to any stunt coordinator who would talk to her and doing any gag, no matter how small. Kind of like the one she was supposed to do now.
    â€œNo big deal,” she said. “I really don’t mind.”
    Jill mumbled something that sounded like “Well, I do,” before turning toward Ben and dragging him toward the edge of the set.
    Crash watched them, observed Jill’s gestures as she talked to Ben and waved her arm to indicate the set. She told herself she wasn’t ogling her; she was just trying to familiarize herself with the actress’s body language so she could adjust her own on camera.
    Finally, Ben shook his head to whatever Jill had requested.
    â€œExcuse me,” someone said behind Crash.
    The camera crew and the sound people were setting up their equipment all around her.
    Crash quickly got out of their way.

    Normally, Jill knew exactly how to use her Irish charm to get whatever she wanted. Not this time, apparently.
    Ben kept shaking his head, no matter what she said. “No, Jill. I can’t just ignore Floyd’s decision. You don’t want me to get in trouble with the boss, do you?”
    Jill sighed. “No. Of course not.”
    Nikki, one of the movie’s leading ladies, joined them. She wrapped one arm around Jill and gently nudged her. “Why are you so eager to get fake urine all over your costume anyway?”
    A grin slowly made its way onto Jill’s face. “Well, when you put it that way… Maybe I should be glad that the stuntwoman is doing it.” Despite her words, she couldn’t bring herself to be relieved. Shame and anger made her cheeks burn. She hated that the stuntwoman now assumed her to be a prissy diva who had requested a stunt double because she was afraid to chip a nail. Crash Patterson seemed to be the only person in the room who had no idea that Jill had MS. Hard to believe that anyone in Hollywood had missed the tabloid frenzy last June, but it seemed Crash had managed somehow. Normally, Jill would be glad about it, but now it meant the stuntwoman thought she was a slacker.
    Jill glanced over at Crash. Wearing the wig and the same costume, she could be mistaken for Jill from behind, but a closer look revealed that she didn’t look like Jill at all. While people often referred to Jill as cute, Crash was gorgeous, in that nonclassical, almost androgynous way that would have immediately captured Jill’s interest in the past. The