Black Flag, White Lies
Smolder for me, Will," the photographer urged.
Will Branch narrowed his eyes. "What the devil does that mean?"
"There!" She snapped several shots. "That works."
Her assistant grinned. "Yeah. Even frowning, he's hot. You could be a model, you know."
He winced. "Not a chance. I'm a race car driver, end of story."
"But female fans love you, and now more of America will, with this fashion magazine spread. You and your twin are going to set some new hearts pounding. Want to see the shots we did of Bart yesterday?"
"No thanks." Will glanced at his watch and groaned. "Tell me we're finished. The NASCAR Awards Banquet starts in an hour. I should never have agreed to sandwich this in."
"Yeah, but you've already got on your tux," the assistant pointed out.
Will glanced down at the bare chest framed by a tuxedo shirt, jeans in place of dress pants. He rolled his eyes.
She grinned unrepentantly. "Well, part of it, anyway."
He returned the grin. He thought about getting her phone number for the next time he was in New York but resisted. He was set for a rock-climbing trip back in Texas right after he got back to Dallas, then he'd go hunting in Virginia with hi ... read full excerpt from: Black Flag, White Lies ebook
