Free The Princess and the Porn Star by Lauren Gallagher Page A

to go any further.
    “Cut!”
    The word hit me like someone had dumped ice cold water over the top of us. We both stopped but didn’t pull apart.
    “Looking good,” Jim shouted. “Time for a costume change. Everyone in black, put on white. Everyone in white, put on black. Be back on-set in thirty minutes.”
    Oh God. We had to do this all over again. Touching her, dancing with her, wanting her like mad. Good thing Jim planned to finish the entire shoot today. I didn’t know if I could handle three days in a row of this.
    Rachel turned around. She smiled. “Guess I’ll see you in thirty?”
    “Yeah.” I gulped. “See you in thirty.”

Chapter Five
    Rachel
    “Damn it.” I made an exaggerated gagging noise as Quinn zipped up the black dress.
    “Almost there,” he said.
    “Fuck, dude…”
    “Hey, I didn’t design it.” He gave the zipper one last pull. “There. You’re good.”
    “Says you,” I croaked.
    “You were doing fine in the other one.”
    “Yeah, but I’d been wearing that one for a while. They do stretch.” I tugged at the cable-tight neckline. Well, cleavage-line. “And just when I can finally breathe, I change, and now…”
    “And now you get to put on the other shoes.”
    I closed my eyes and let my head fall forward. “Motherfucker.”
    With more help from Quinn, I got into the shoes. I didn’t have as much trouble with my balance today, but my ankle wasn’t happy.
    “How’s your foot?” he asked.
    “Sore, as expected.”
    “You want me to put on some of that stuff he gave you?” Quinn looked around. “I saw the jar here a second ago.”
    Pride wanted me to say I could handle it, but I still had a few hours of standing and—gulp—dancing ahead of me, so I said, “You don’t mind?”
    “Honey, this is the shit you pay me to do. Now be a good girl and sit.”
    I sat.
    While Quinn retrieved the jar from the counter where I’d left it, he asked, “Did the cortisone help?”
    “It did,” I said. “But it’s only going to do so much when I have to wear those torture devices.”
    “Shoes like that,” he muttered, unscrewing the lid on the jar, “you’d need a spinal block to keep your feet from hurting.”
    “This from the man threatening to do Riverdance in them just to show me up?”
    Quinn snorted as he knelt in front of me. “I didn’t say it would be comfortable.” He gently held my ankle as he smoothed the topical onto my skin. Funny how he was doing the exact same thing Lee had done last night, but it didn’t have anywhere near the same effect. It took the edge off the pain, though, so I sure didn’t complain.
    As he put the lid back on the jar, he said, “So I didn’t get to ask, how did last night go?”
    Last night. The thought brought a smile to my lips.
    Quinn glanced up and did a double take. He straightened. “Rachel Olivia Taylor. You didn’t .”
    “What?”
    “Don’t play dumb with me, madam.” He wagged a finger at me. “You know exactly what I mean.”
    I started to get up, and Quinn offered a hand. As he helped me to my feet, I said, “I didn’t sleep with him, if that’s what you’re wondering.”
    “You say you didn’t.” He peered at me through narrowed eyes. “That grin says otherwise.”
    “Quinn, I swear I did not sleep with him. Hand to God.”
    He released my arm. “Mm-hmm. Sure you didn’t.” He pointed sharply in the general direction of the soundstage. “I saw how you two were dancing out there.”
    I shivered. “I know, but—”
    “And your body language and his said if you haven’t boned the bejeezus out of each other yet, it’s going to happen the moment you’re left unsupervised with him.”
    I laughed. “Well, I didn’t say I’d have said no if he’d offered, but…”
    “I’m surprised he didn’t.” Quinn smirked. “Maybe he doesn’t like bringing his work home with him.”
    I threw him a look.
    “What?” He batted his eyes.
    I rolled mine. “Anyway. I need to get back out there before