Mercifully, before she had to come up with some way to change the subject, Benny and Roger arrived at their table and changed it for her.
“Hey, sorry to interrupt,” Benny said, pulling a chair over to join them, “but I wanted to have a quick chat before you head back to the rooms.”
Roger remained standing, hovering slightly behind Benny’s chair.
“What’s up?” she asked, never so grateful to see her boss.
“Roger and I were just talking about the black-tie event the Stingrays Foundation is putting on next weekend.”
“What about it?” Tank asked.
“In the fall, you brought two dates, as I recall.”
Tank grimaced. “Emily and Lara.”
Benny sighed. “Yeah. You weren’t planning on bringing them again, were you?”
Tank shook his head. “No, Benny. I’m not an idiot. I know that would go over like a lead balloon.”
“Good,” he said. “Roger and I think it would be best if Mac went with you as your date.”
McKenna instantly panicked. “Me?”
Benny nodded.
“But I can’t. I work the event,” she reminded him, shooting Roger a what-the-hell look, since he was clearly in on this idea.
Roger, who’d become a good friend to her, grimaced, which let her know she was probably fighting a losing battle. Not that she planned to stop trying. She was struggling enough with her misplaced attraction to the last man on the planet she should be fantasizing about. Going on a date with him would be the equivalent to throwing gasoline on a fire. Her vibrator wouldn’t be able to withstand it.
“I need to be there in my official capacity, Benny, walking around, taking pictures, talking to people for my posts,” she insisted.
Benny crooked a thumb over his shoulder. “Roger offered to cover the event for you.”
McKenna narrowed her eyes, hoping her friend could read the words—“Et tu, Brute?”—she was thinking.
She shook her head. “Benny,” she started again, but her boss talked over her.
“Mac, there are going to be a lot of sponsors at the event. Not to mention the big-time fans, who are dropping a mint for the tickets just so they can meet their favorite Rays players. I’d feel a lot better if you were there to guide the conversations.”
“Do you seriously think I’m going to do or say something wrong?” Tank asked the table in general.
“No,” McKenna said. At the same time, Benny replied, “Yes.”
Unlike McKenna, Benny hadn’t been a witness to his redemption tour, so it was obviously going to take Tank a little longer to convince the PR director that he was walking the straight and narrow.
McKenna, on the other hand, had had a front row seat to all the promo ops, and she’d seen how well Tank had handled himself.
“Tank.” Benny leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table. “Last year at this event, you told a dirty joke in the hearing of the president’s wife.”
“I didn’t know she was standing behind me.”
“And at the one this past fall, you and your,” Benny paused, drawing in a deep breath, “dates were on the dance floor most of the night. And let’s just say…you weren’t leaving much to the imagination.”
McKenna winced as she recalled Tank bumping and grinding with Emily and Lara, the dancing so sexually charged, she might have thought they were actually fucking if they hadn’t been fully clothed.
Benny tapped one finger on the table. “The only reason all this shit with Lara didn’t blow up back then was because Charles Steele had been out of town on business and couldn’t attend. We didn’t make any photos of the three of you public, so you got away with it that time. We’re not pushing our luck this time around, so I think it’s in everyone’s best interest if Mac attends the gala with you.”
McKenna closed her eyes, aware nothing she said was going to change Benny’s mind. She glanced at Tank, hoping he would pick up the battle. Maybe he could find some way to persuade Benny it would be fine if he attended alone.
