Who is that shirtless man on the cover of that romance novel? If it’s a photograph, he's a real man, flesh and blood, standing in front of a camera, sweating, itching, thinking about what he had for lunch, wondering if that mortgage got paid, whether the kid’s orthodontist appointment was confirmed, feeling that sticky vinyl office chair against this naked skin, remembering he forgot to walk the dog…

In other words, the shirtless man on the cover is just like you and me, even when he fulfills every fantasy imaginable for the romance reader.

Still, it's nice work, if you can get it.

Burton Hughes gets it.

Burton Hughes on cover of Reawaken the Heart by K. L. Myers, just one of many book covers with his image. Credit: Courtesy of Burton Hughes

According to Romance Writers of America, a nonprofit trade association, there are over 10,000 romance writers and related industry professionals in America, and they sell $1.5 billion in books per year — more than one-third of the U.S. fiction market.

Forgetting, for a moment, the stories, the cover plays a big part in a book's success. Some books feature Fabio-like illustrations of the love interest, often shirtless. Maybe he wears a cowboy hat, or a kilt, or has a Brooks Brothers jacket slung over his naked shoulder. Perhaps he's astride a horse, or on a pirate ship, or in the jungle (with a loincloth). No matter: usually, he’s shirtless.

That's where Largo's Burton Hughes comes in.

First, the stats: He’s 5’10, 185 pounds, with 50-inch shoulders, a 46-inch chest and a 28-inch waist — his upper half a perfectly inverted pyramid. There were other measurements we discussed, too. The number eight kept coming up.

That’s his body-fat percentage.

Santa baby, hurry down the chimney tonight. Credit: Courtesy of Burton Hughes

But he puts his 28-inch-waist pants on one leg at a time, just like us. Well… maybe there are some slight differences between that block of sculpted marble with washboard abs and the rest of us. For one thing, he works out constantly because his body is his livelihood. He cannot afford, ever, to soak it in alcohol, cheeseburgers or couch-potato lassitude. He eats five times a day to get in his 3000 calories, but won't eat anything processed. He intersperses eating with cardio and strength training. And, of course, he plays with his daughter — she's two-and-a-half, and he has another baby on the way.

Strength training and cardio are also part of one of his other jobs: He's the training director at a Get Fitness gym in Largo, and he’s a Re/Max real estate agent. This chiseled chunk of manflesh is driven, because he realizes looks and fitness can fade, though he acknowledges that men are lucky in that they can continue their modeling career well into middle age and beyond. He'll “ride this thing till it ends, no expiration date as older men can still make it,” he says.

His eyes twinkle as he laughs and says Christian Gray, the bad boy of Fifty Shades, is his alter-ego — not fetishist Christian, but the billionaire playboy who loves fast cars. Maybe Burton himself has as many fantasies as the readers of the books whose covers he graces.

After high school and a stab at college, he devoted himself to bodybuilding and healthy eating. In 2010, he entered the Mr. Ohio bodybuilding competition and won. From there he progressed to Nationals at the North American Bodybuilding championship, and then to Men’s Physique competitions. In 2011, he turned pro with the International Federation of BodyBuilding and Fitness, an exclusive honor.

"Being a fitness model is what I do professionally. But it’s not who I am,” he says, something he reinforced throughout our interview. His job means he must stay fit — and that he must fight the inevitable temptations. People attempt to throw themselves at him simply to see if they bounce off the rock, or maybe get lucky and be folded into the knobs and crevices of such a body, or perhaps carom right into that dimpled chin. (He demurs. Every time.)

He laughs about those (quite real) temptations, especially at romance novel conventions. Readers hope to meet — and greet — the attractive man whose photo graces the cover. He’s frequently asked for his signature, but it’s not the title page the reader wants inscribed; instead, they want a more up-close and personal encounter with John and his Hancock. As the Panera Bread's crowd swirled around us, he leaned forward and shared, sotto voice, some of the more salacious suggestions whispered into his ear at these conventions. If I had hair, it would have curled.

He's also posed for catalog advertisements, industrial promotional material, swimwear ads, beefcake calendars — even Hallmark cards. And he’s modeled for Pistol Pete, an upscale retailer of men's underwear, jockstraps and thongs, a company with a distinctively gay “It’s all about the feel” vibe.

And, of course, he poses for book covers.

Burton Hughes on cover of Kira Blakely’s The Game (the bow tie was photoshopped around his neck) Credit: Courtesy of Burton Hughes

A photo shoot may capture thousands of images of him, bare-chested, posing and pouting, sometimes half-dressed, sometimes with animals. He recalls one sub-freezing shoot in Idaho where all he had on was a headdress of eagle feathers, appropriately positioned to hide the dangling bits, and stared angrily into the horizon while a wolf stood at his feet. The wolf had five handlers, but it kept wanting to lick his face. When the photographer sells the photo, he and Hughes split the income.

I wondered about the unreal expectations we have for women’s and men’s bodies. Hughes commented that, good or bad, women can be Photoshopped to carve off a few pounds, but not men — you can’t make a silk six-pack from a sow’s belly. The only time Hughes has been Photoshopped was to get a tattoo. What about that pulsing vein, so prominent from his navel to his pubes, that's often highlighted in his book covers? It's real. He showed me.

He acknowledges he’s meat. Packaged, fantasy, glossy, sultry, book-cover meat. That’s OK. He'll transform himself into anything the author, photographer or book cover requires. “I won’t gain weight. I will grow a beard. I have shaved my head. I won’t get a tattoo. I will dye my hair. I have used hair extensions.” He feels good about fulfilling others' fantasies, and fantasy is a business. If his looks and body can conjure it, what's the harm? In fact, just the opposite of harm: pleasure, happiness, life.

He admits it can get silly — he's seen convention swag that features his face on M&Ms — but it's billion-dollar silliness. And so he scoops them up and gives them to his daughter, and together they laugh about how Daddy’s face got on candy.

At 35, Burton Hughes — beefcake, pretty boy, gym rat, fitness guru, jockstrap model, husband, father, entrepreneur, real-estate agent, “Hollywood” to his close friends, and romance-cover bad boy with the full package — embodies the essence of Thoreau in his authenticity, common decency, and down-to-earth demeanor.

That's the real man behind that book-cover fantasy. You'll have to decide which you prefer.

Ben Wiley, one of our Creative Loafing film reviewers, is also an advocate for paper and print. Dead trees, if you will. He volunteers at a local library bookstore and enjoys engaging with readers and their books. Our series BookStories will highlight some of these Ben, Book & Beyond encounters. Contact him here.