The Princess and the Porn Star Read Online Free PDF Page B

Buck’s magic topical would make anything worse.
    “You don’t mind?” I asked.
    “Not at all,” he said. “Do you need help getting back to your dressing room?”
    “No, no, I’ll be fine.” I think. And if you touch me, I won’t be able to walk anyway. I forced a smile. “It’s not far. I’ll be okay.” I hope.
    Buck hesitated, but then gestured at another door that must have been his dressing room. “All right, give me a minute, and I’ll bring it over.”
    “Thanks.”
    I hobbled down the hall to my dressing room, left the door open so I wouldn’t have to let Buck in, and sank onto one of the folding chairs. Now all I needed was Quinn to give me a hand with these shoes and help me out of this dress, and I could see if Buck’s miracle topical did any good. Which I would probably do in the car on the way to my date with a syringe full of cortisone.
    Just getting off my feet helped almost immediately. I closed my eyes and took a few slow, deep breaths. Well, as deep as this dress would allow. Shit, I was going to take that thing off, but that meant standing, not to mention trying to keep my balance while I struggled to peel the thing off. And, for that matter, Buck was coming by any minute…
    I slowly exhaled through my nose. Just had to wait until Buck dropped off this miracle ointment and Quinn came back, and then I could strip and breathe.
    A moment later, footsteps came down the hall. I opened my eyes just as Buck appeared in the doorway with a small white jar in his hand.
    He hesitated. “All right if I come in?”
    “Sure, sure.” I lifted my foot and winced. “Because I’m not getting up again until these things are off.”
    “Good call.” He crossed the narrow room and handed me the jar. “Directions are on the side, but just put it on and leave it.”
    “Thanks.” I smiled up at him, then looked around. “Now if I can ever find Quinn, I can sweet-talk him into putting it on.”
    “I, um…” Buck glanced at the jar in my hand. “If you’d like, I can put it on. I’ll be careful.”
    I looked down at my foot and then slid a surreptitious glance toward the door. Where Quinn was or who he was talking to, I had no idea, and if I didn’t get these shoes off, I was going to amputate from the knee with a nail file. The alternative to waiting or severing a limb was Buck removing my shoes with those warm, gentle hands and putting on something with the potential to relieve some pain. There were worse things in life.
    “You don’t mind?” I asked quietly.
    “No, of course not.” He knelt in front of me. “Which foot?”
    “The right one,” I said. “I don’t suppose I can talk you into—” I hesitated, biting my lip.
    He looked up and cocked his head a little. “Talk me into…?”
    “Helping me with both shoes?”
    “No problem.” He eyed the shoes. “I wouldn’t want to keep those on any longer than I had to.”
    “You wear shoes like these?”
    A laugh burst out of him, and holy crap, he had a beautiful smile. Shaking his head, he said, “No, I don’t wear things like this.” As he reached for my foot, he added, “Thank God.”
    He didn’t have any trouble with the straps and buckles. I supposed it didn’t surprise me he knew what he was doing. He probably had to maneuver all kinds of tiny straps and buckles in his line of work. Lots of leather ones, for that matter.
    A strap slackened, and he carefully slid off my shoe.
    “Oh my God.” I groaned and let my head fall back. “It feels better already.”
    “I don’t doubt it.” He laughed softly. “I still can’t figure out how women don’t wind up with broken ankles more often. These things are dangerous.”
    “It happens.” I shifted to hide a shudder. “Believe me.”
    “I don’t envy you, that’s for sure.” After he took off the other shoe, he picked up the little jar he’d brought in and unscrewed the cap. As he scooped out some of the bluish, semi-opaque gel with his fingers, he said,