Tiernan kept shooting; he had the feeling that Tasha was unaware of what a natural beauty she was. So much more fun for him to photograph than the ones who had to spackle on more make-up than a circus clown just to look passable -- there would be no cheap foundation stains on his backdrop, for one, and no stopping every twenty minutes to reapply what had been sweated off under the lights.
That smile he had gotten from her was perfect, completely non self-conscious, eyes cast down like it was her own secret joke. It was going to look great in print.
"Fuck. Girlfriends, man. What a pain the in ass," Tiernan agreed good-naturedly. "No offense to you, of course. Listen, whatever you do? Never date a French model. Never ends well."