Heroes and Hunks

What They Are Saying About

Heroes And Hunks

T his reader thoroughly enjoyed Heroes and Hunks; it was sexy, humorous, and guarantees a happy-ever-after ending that is most satisfying. I would recommend this book to everyone who loves a story filled with great real-to-life characters, sensual imagery, sexual tension, humorous moments, and an everlasting love. Five Roses

—Kari Thomas

A Romance Review

Heroes And Hunks

Christine Poe

A Wings ePress, Inc.

Contemporary Romance Novel

Edited by: Lorraine Stephens

Copy Edited by: Ann Oortman

Senior Editor: Anita York

Executive Editor: Lorraine Stephens

Cover Artist: Chrissie Poe

All rights reserved

NAMES, CHARACTERS AND incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher.

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

Copyright © 2002 by Christine Poe

ISBN:  978-1-59088-013-5

Published by Wings ePress, Inc.

Published In the United States Of America

Wings ePress Inc.

3000 N. Rock Road

Newton, KS  67114

Dedication

To my daughter, Amanda,

who faces life’s challenges

with determination and a smile,

may love and laughter fill your heart with joy...

and true happiness be your reward.

One

H ello? Twyla Twitt propped the telephone receiver on her shoulder as she dug through the refrigerator. She almost dropped the phone as she reached for the milk carton. No. I’m not looking for a hunk. I want photographs and personal data. Yeah...you know...their interests and favorite food. What they look for in a woman—Huh? Sure, this is for real. I think a lot of women out there would buy this magazine.

The doorbell buzzed. She turned around, wrapping herself in the telephone cord. Look...someone’s at the door. Send me what you have. Bye.

Twyla dropped the receiver in the cradle as she passed the sofa and hurried across the living room. She jerked the heavy door open, the telephone cord tightened around her ankles and she landed flat on her stomach, Oomph!

She sputtered and blinked to focus. Brushing her blond hair out of her face, she came eye to eye with the shoes of her visitor. These were not her sister Jewel’s tiny feet; these were huge dusty cowboy boots. Her eyes blazed a path up faded denim jeans and stopped on a large silver belt buckle. Oh no. It couldn’t be!

Of all the stupid, dumb, idiotic things to do. Twyla bent sideways and tried to untangle the cord. Just a minute please. As you can see...I’m a little tied up...at the moment. Darn old cord!

A deep chuckle brought her gaze up again to meet the sexy green eyes of the man squatting before her. He wasn’t her old beau as she had first thought, but he was definitely a cowboy. She was both relieved and irritated at the same time. She had no idea what she would say to Luke if he ever showed up again—the big jerk.

Need some help? The stranger held out his hand.

Was he blind? Of course, she could use some help. But for the life of her, she could not find her voice. His rugged male presence literally took her breath away. She nodded and found herself immediately swept up into strong arms. He carried her across the room, with ease, and set her down on the sofa.

Does this happen often? His brow furrowed while he attempted to unwind the mischievous phone cord. You could get hurt doing a fool thing like this.

She shot him a steely look and wished he would disappear in a blink of an eye...zap! I’ve only tripped twice since I put in the hundred-foot telephone cord, she admitted with arms crossed defiantly.

His smiled broadened. Haven’t you heard of cordless?

Twyla closed her eyes and fumed. When she opened them, he wasn’t looking at her. He was struggling to unwind the cord from her ankles. She noticed the fall of his dark wavy hair, the thick kind women love to run their fingers through. He pulled the last bit of cord away and gently rubbed her reddened ankles with his big rough hands, sending delightful little shivers up her legs.

Of course I’ve heard of cordless, but then I couldn’t have my Garfield phone. She pointed at the large, bright orange, cartoon-character telephone sitting on the table beside the sofa. I love that telephone.

His gaze followed her gesture. Oh, I see. Garfield, huh? Are you a cat lover?

She had to smile. Boy, did he ask all the wrong questions! Only of one fat and very contented feline named Tuna.

At the sound of his name, the twenty-five-pound, cream-colored cat bounded into the room. He jumped up on the sofa beside Twyla and blinked big, round, baby blue eyes at her adoringly. His loud contented purr vibrated the air around them.

The cowboy brushed off his knees. That’s not a house cat, that’s half mountain lion! He chuckled and reached over to pet Tuna.

Twyla smiled. She couldn’t help herself. He liked cats. Good. But who in the heck was this guy? Her curious thoughts must have coincided with his. Their eyes met at the exact moment their fingers touched on the cat’s fur coat. Sparks! Did she feel sparks run up her fingertips?

Hey, I don’t know where my manners have gone. I’m sorry. Let me introduce myself. I’m Brad Denton, first-class photographer at your service. He bowed his head, then looked up at her with a killer grin. I came about the ad?

She couldn’t stop staring at him. The...ad?

"Heroes and Hunks Magazine? You wanted a professional photographer?"

Yeah, well, she wanted a lot of things, but they didn’t walk right in the front door every day. He could be applying for any page in the magazine. He fit them all—except professional photographer. She had planned to acquire a female photographer, someone who could bring out the best in a man’s expression on film and make the reader’s feminine hearts flutter. No, a cowboy would not do a good job.

Yes, I do need a professional photographer, but excuse me for saying so...you really don’t look the type.

What do you mean? You haven’t even seen my work. He looked into Tuna’s big eyes as he scrunched the huge cat’s furry neck. I do great work.

Tuna purred louder and turned belly-up for a tummy rub. The darn cat believed every word that rolled over this smooth operator’s tongue.

Enough was enough. Twyla walked toward the door. This was important business and she had the right to be selective in whom she hired. I’m sorry. You aren’t exactly what I’m looking for in an assistant.

She held the door open and studied him as he walked over to join her. Tall, lean, and hard-muscled described him very well. He looked like an all-star athlete, except for his cowboy apparel. She shook off the dazzling effect he had on her. She didn’t like cowboys and she avoided them at all costs. She had to for her own sanity. There would never be another Luke in her life...ever.

The cowboy paused and ran long fingers through his dark hair. I have my portfolio out in the truck—

I’m sorry, no. I really do have to go now. Thanks for your help.

He walked so doggone slow Twyla practically shut the door on his boot heels. But what a confident swagger! She leaned against the closed door and released a long-held sigh. Talk about perfect material for her new venture! The man could be a walking advertisement for Heroes and Hunks Magazine. He was simply too yummy to dare think about for more than a minute. Why in the world would he apply for a job like this one?

He might be a down-on-his-luck cowboy looking for work between rodeos, but whatever his real occupation, she couldn’t hire someone like him and concentrate on getting any work done. She sure didn’t need him underfoot. He was far too appealing. He reeked of that rugged male essence she associated with cowboys. She had no time for foolish daydreams. This new idea of hers had to succeed. The future security of the family newspaper depended upon it.

She merely needed to find the right professional photographer, organize all the mail she had received over the past few weeks and she would be ready to go. She flopped on the couch beside Tuna and picked up the telephone receiver to call her sister. Jewel should have dropped by hours ago with the mail. Knowing Jewel, she probably was distracted by something trivial and let it slip her wayward mind.

The doorbell buzzed and Tuna took off in a mad run for the bedroom. Twyla jumped up off the couch and hung up the receiver, carefully avoiding the sneaky telephone cord. She reached the door just as her sister stepped into the apartment wearing a broad Cheshire cat grin.

Still not locking your doors, I see. Jewel sashayed across the room with a bundle of envelopes under her arm. One of these days somebody’s going to barge in here and you will be caught with your pants down.

Twyla rolled her eyes. "Give it up, Sis. No one locks their doors in Valley City, it’s too country. She reached for the mail bundle. I can’t believe all the response I’ve received from my ad. This is great! Wanna help sort through it?"

Jewel’s blue eyes stared across at her. You’ve got to be kidding? She flopped onto the sofa and propped her feet up on the coffee table. Why don’t you get a better job to keep yourself busy? Give up the old newspaper life and start a life of your own. Who knows...you might even meet Mr. Right.

I met Mr. Right once. Luke left me standing like a fool at the altar, if you’ll remember our family history lesson correctly.

Twyla carried the envelopes over to the kitchen table and pulled three half-filled cardboard boxes out from underneath. She began opening letters and sorting the information into boxes, all the while keeping a wary eye on her sister. Trouble always followed Jewel, especially when she was in one of her moods.

That was five years ago, Jewel reminded her.

Was it? Seems like only yesterday. Twyla tried to concentrate on the mail, but knew Jewel studied her from across the two-room studio apartment. What ever happened to sisterly love? Bringing the mail over from the post office didn’t exactly require much effort on Jewel’s part. Helping save the family business would be an ideal act of love.

Jewel huffed in frustration. In all this time, you are going to tell me that you haven’t found one man who even slightly interests you?

No. Not one. Green eyes and wavy dark brown hair popped into Twyla’s mind, but she mentally shoved the cowboy photographer aside. Men are great to look at, but I can’t deal with their deceit.

Not all men are like Luke. Jewel reached for a glamour magazine on the table and made herself at home as usual. Besides, men are so much fun to play with.

You go ahead and play. I would rather be working.

Twyla looked down at the unfolded letter she held in her fingers. The attached photo was slightly blurred, and she couldn’t make out any distinct features, just a nice body. She tossed it into the maybe box with a sigh. At least her hunks box sat almost full. That held some promise that her magazine idea would work.

Oh, by the way...I’m leaving town tomorrow, Jewel said suddenly as she thumbed through the magazine, then tossed it carelessly aside. I have a great lead on a story in Oklahoma City.

Oklahoma City? Jewel, you just got home from the Bahamas. Our small town paper doesn’t need news clear from Oklahoma. Why can’t you do your column with stories from around here? You know... human interest stories?

"Just like all the other boring reporters do? Why do you think The Roving Eye column has done so well? It sure isn’t because I live in Nevada; it’s because I travel the states. I go where the action is and send in juicy tidbits from all over the country."

Twyla raised her eyebrows. I think you are taking advantage of your share in the company. A share you were talking about selling, I might remind you. No one will fire you from the newspaper as long as you own one-third of it. Think about it for a while, Jewel. This newspaper was important to Dad. How can you even think of selling out?

Jewel jumped to her feet. Who put the nickel in you today, Twy? You know that if I thought there was a chance that we could come up with the money, I would back you one hundred percent. But there isn’t. You cannot force this new venture of yours to work. It will fail...like all the rest.

"I wasn’t trying to save the Trib when I tried those other things. I have always wanted to do something on my own, just like Dad did when he started the newspaper. This is important to me and it should be important to you."

Look, I loved Dad, too. But I’m not so blind that I’ll keep fighting for a cause when it’s already lost. Jewel’s eyes flashed anger, her long honey-blonde hair fell into her face as she leaned her palms on the tabletop across from Twyla and scowled. "You are letting life pass you by and you’re using the idea of saving the Tribune as an excuse—a very poor excuse. One dumb guy happens to mislead you in love and now you hate men altogether. It doesn’t make sense."

I don’t hate men or I wouldn’t be doing this project. I love to look at men, but I don’t like getting involved with them. There is a mighty big difference, Jewel. I think there are a lot of women out there who feel the same way. That’s why I know this magazine will go over really big.

"That’s what you thought about Old Folks Dateline, too."

Give me a break. Twyla brushed her disobedient bangs out of her face with a swipe of her hand. Leave it to Jewel to bring up the past every darn time they argued. I know I blew it on that one. You don’t have to keep rubbing it in my face. This is different. This is going to appeal to thousands of women all over the country and save the newspaper at the same time.

And what if it doesn’t?

What do you mean?

Jewel’s eyes lit with mischief. Would you be willing to make a bet with me? Like we used to when we were kids?

That depends. She didn’t like the look of mischief on her younger sister’s face; it always meant big trouble. She took an uneasy breath and blew it out slowly. What kind of bet are we talking about?

"Let’s say if you can’t make Heroes and Hunks work, and I mean profitably enough to buy out Perkins, by your birthday...then we both sell our shares and get on with our lives."

Twyla’s frown deepened. No fair, that’s only a few months away. Perkins said if I can show profit by the end of May, he will tell the conglomerate no deal and wait until I can buy him out.

Do you have faith in your project?

Yes, but—

No but’s. If you can make it profitable, I won’t sell my share and I’ll even help you buy out Perkins. Deal?

This wasn’t like Jewel. She had something else up her sleeve, maybe an ulterior motive to make this a good deal for her, too. Wait a minute...if I lose, I give up all that Dad worked his entire life for and walk away?

Having doubts?

No. Twyla knew her idea would catch on, but