The spotlight doesn't get any hotter than this...

Rachel Marsh doesn't have time to think about the pampered lives of Hollywood stars. She's too busy running her family's Lazy M Ranch in Arizona. But even Rachel has heard of Jackson Stone, the green-eyed movie megahunk known for his sexual prowess both on- and offscreen. Jackson is the last person Rachel would expect to show up looking for work as a cowboy. But that's exactly what happens . . . and now Rachel has her hands full keeping her mind on the Lazy M--and off Jackson!

After a nasty tabloid scandal, Jackson has decided it would be best to spend a little time out of the public eye. When he stumbles across the Lazy M Ranch, he hatches a brilliant plan: to convince its pretty owner to let him go undercover as a cowboy until things blow over. Jackson sees nothing wrong with spending a little time incognito--especially with a woman like Rachel, who looks as good roping cattle as she does by the light of an intimate campfire. Now, far from inquiring eyes, these two slightly cynical lovers are going to discover just how good they are at being bad . . . and the outcome may be more than downright sexy. It may be true love.

From the Paperback edition.

 

Jackson Stone was a mess. Blood was everywhere. And the oozing wound on his leg wasn't exactly appetizing.

Maybe he should wash off the gore before lunch. But after a morning chasing drug runners through the southern Arizona desert, not to mention being beaten to a pulp by said drug runners, his tanks were on empty. If he took time to shower, all the salami sandwiches would be gone. He'd be stuck with ham, or worse, bologna. You would think a big film company working in the back of beyond would fly in enough salami so that everyone who wanted salami could have salami.

Right then the thought of any kind of a sandwich made his mouth water. For the fifth time in the last hour he lay down in the scorching sand, supposedly unconscious, while his partner awaited his cue to leap to the rescue. When this take was finally in the can, he decided, salami first, then a shower.

"Cut!" Dave Goldman yelled. "Dammit, Rick! You missed your goddamned cue again! What do you want? An engraved invitation?"

Jackson opened his eyes in time to see Rick Carroll step onto the set and pull a grimace.

"Sorry."

"Sorry," Goldman whined, dripping sarcasm. He was short, rotund, and resembled a bald teddy bear, but his unimpressive stature didn't keep him from being one of the most intimidating directors in the film industry. In his day he'd chewed up and spit out the likes of Harrison Ford and Clint Eastwood. A pipsqueak rock star turned movie actor didn't even make him blink. "He's sorry!" he snarled. "How many times do we have to shoot this scene to get a take? Goddamned amateurs!"

The female lead tossed her tousled blond hair and a sinister-looking drug lord leaned against a dusty Lincoln Navigator, watching with a smile as one of the "good guys" got his butt chewed. Reluctantly surrendering his visions of salami, Jackson sprang up, carefully preserving the fake blood splashed about his leg, chest, and shoulder. "How about some water over here? I've got enough dirt in my mouth to plant potatoes."

He and the director exchanged looks, and The Goldman reluctantly abandoned his tirade.

"Ten minute break, everybody, and then we're going to shoot this again. And I swear anyone who flubs a line or ruins this take is going to get his ass fired. That's a promise!" As a production assistant handed out cold bottles of Aquafina, he growled, "Water! Dammit, where's a bottle of whiskey when I need it?"

Jackson chuckled. "On the wagon again, Dave? That why you're such a bear?"

"Watch it, Stone. The mood I'm in, I might even fire your ass."

The production assistant looked horrified. Jackson smiled and gave her a good-natured wink. No film director, not even David Goldman, was going to fire Jackson Stone, and Jackson knew it.

"Take it easy on Carroll, Dave. This film's his big break. He's nervous."

"The kid's stupid."

"Rick Carroll has teenage hearts throbbing all over America and Europe. Do you know how much money teenagers spend on movies?"

"He's still stupid."

"I suppose you were never young and stupid?"

"Damned right I wasn't. Not that stupid."

Jackson smiled dryly. "Right. I wasn't, either."

Dave cast his eyes toward the sky, as if seeking help from on high. "Two more days of good shooting. Just give me two more days, and we'll wrap this puppy up on time and only slightly over budget. Is that so much to ask?" He looked sideways at Jackson and changed the subject abruptly. "The scuttlebutt is, your wife is going to get an Oscar for her Queen Elizabeth."

"Ex-wife, Dave. Very important. Ex-wife. Melanie was a natural for that part. QE I was one of her former lives, according...

 

 

The Good, the Bad, and the Sexy by Emily Carmichael
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