Jace (Kings of Country 1)

There was also that misguided little voice in her head wanting her to give him the benefit of the doubt. She didn’t know much about Jace Black, that was true. But what she did know was he was nothing like Mickey Graham; Travis got that part right.

It was important he stay that way.

Having their personal lives linked might be a good thing for her but not for him. For her, he’d be damage control. For him, she’d be the powder keg that invariably blew his career to shreds. Didn’t he get that? Didn’t he know that she was the wrong King sister to get involved with?

The longer she stared at him, the more his smile faded.

“You two want to come look at these?” her father called out. “I’d say we’re good, but I’d rather get your approval before we send any of these out with the press release.”

“Sure.” She tore her gaze from his, shoved the prop guitar into his hands, and hurried to her father’s side.

“Gonna be a hell of a challenge to pick the right one.” Her father crossed his arms over his chest, his gaze fixed on the monitor.

“Right?” the photographer nodded. “Solid gold, if I do say so myself. Every shot.”

She wasn’t sure what she’d expected, but not this.

Oh no. No. No. No.

The photographer had picked up on everything. Every tiny, infinitesimal detail. How she looked downright tiny next to him. His jeans—those jeans and that ass. Jace was…well, it was understandable that he already had fans. Now that she’d heard him sing, she knew it wasn’t just because of his smile. Or his laugh. Or those dimples. Or his incredible, work-hardened body. Hell, the overall gorgeousness of everything about him.

That part was good—for Jace.

But the rest was not.

That thing, that chemical reaction between them, was there. Recorded forever. For all the world to see.

The look on his face when he touched her. Her heart felt heavy, compressed inside her chest.

The look on her face when their eyes met. Her smile. No. Her lungs emptied and the anxiety she’d been grappling with came crashing in. No.

“These won’t work,” she whispered, the words getting stuck in her throat. Not that anyone was listening to her. Even if they had, they wouldn’t have taken her seriously. No, every one else seemed thrilled by the shoot.

“This one.” Her father tapped on the monitor, enlarging one shot of the four of them. They were all smiling and excited. “And this one.” Another click, this one of her and Jace. They were smiling, caught up in one another, leaning close, one of Jace’s heavily muscled tattoo-covered upper arms extended forward as his fingers brushed her temple.

It was too intimate.

“Maybe this one too?” her father asked, looking her way.

* * *

Jace didn’t know much about photo shoots, but he was pretty sure it had gone well. At least, everyone in the room seemed happy. Everyone except Krystal. He wasn’t sure what he’d done, but he’d sure as hell done something.

“Jace.” Hank waved him over. “I can’t guarantee your opinion will influence the outcome here, but I’d like to hear it all the same.” He chuckled.

Jace handed off the guitar to the prop master and stood beside Emmy Lou. Emmy Lou, who was shifting from foot to foot, shooting worried looks at her twin. So he wasn’t the only one to notice Krystal’s agitation.

The pictures were awesome. Every single one of them. He looked like a starstruck idiot, but that’s because he was. The pictures were honest—too honest. He was beyond starstruck. If there’d been any doubts about his interest in Krystal King, they were gone now.

“You look good.” Travis clapped him on the shoulder. “No one would know this was your first rodeo.”

“People are going to freak out.” Luke was smiling from ear to ear, like a kid in a candy shop. “Freak.”

He shook his head, doing his best not to stare at the picture Hank King wanted to use of him and Krystal. But, damn, she looked beautiful. And, together, they made one hell of a team.

“Daddy.” Emmy Lou tugged his arm. “Are you sure about this?” She lowered her voice. “It’s a great shot, but—”

“It’s a picture.” Travis shook his head. “And they look—well, look at them. It’s a damn good picture. And they are singing a ballad. It’s good marketing.”