“You might look too hot,” he murmured, suddenly thinking about all the men who were going to see her tonight. “I probably should have brought my hockey stick along to beat off the guys who’re going to try to steal my girl.”
McKenna pressed her lips together, trying not to smile, but he still saw it. “You’re ridiculous,” she said, before laughing. “Also, not your girl, remember?”
He ignored that assertion, because he didn’t want to hear her call herself his keeper again.
“Whenever I attend in my official capacity,” she continued, “I just wear black slacks and a muted-color blouse so I blend in with the background.”
Tank found it hard to believe she could ever fade into the background, no matter what she wore. Then he recalled that, until a month ago, he’d been one of those blind idiots who’d failed to see her…and her true beauty.
They passed the drive to the party in quiet conversation, talking about their favorite parts of the city.
The gala, which included dinner and dancing, was being held at the Baltimore Museum of Art. Tank pulled up to the entrance, stepping out of his car and handing the keys to the valet before opening McKenna’s door for her.
While it wasn’t an official red carpet, quite a few reporters and fans had gathered near the entrance, hoping to see their favorite players, as well as the elite of Baltimore’s high society, all dressed to the nines. Tank held McKenna’s hand, smiling and waving. A few people yelled out questions about the season and the previous night’s game, which he answered charmingly. Surprisingly, no one mentioned the video, which he was taking as a sign McKenna’s redemption tour was working.
McKenna was less comfortable with the attention, attempting to stand in his shadow. Apparently, she really was well-versed at fading into the background.
Which was a shame for her, because he didn’t intend to let her do that tonight.
“Smile,” he murmured, wrapping his arm around her shoulder. “Say hello to my beautiful date, McKenna,” he told the cameramen, a few of whom played along, affably saying hi.
Tank signed a half dozen autographs for fans before leading her away from the crowd.
“That was a lot of cameras,” she said softly.
Tank grinned. “Isn’t that the point of shindigs like this, Miss Social Media? To draw publicity.”
“It is,” she agreed.
Once they entered the museum, a woman was there, pointing them toward the Fox Room, where tonight’s event was taking place.
“People are probably going to try to figure out who I am,” McKenna murmured, as much to herself as him.
“Is that a bad thing?”
McKenna looked up at him. “Not really. I’m sure it won’t take them long to find out I work in the PR department. Given that viral video, it won’t look all that strange that you’re here with someone who’s basically your publicist.” She glanced back toward the entrance. “I’m not sure how you can stand all those cameras being pointed at you all the time.”
“Are you kidding me? That’s the best place on earth,” he joked, because front and center of any crowd was his preferred position.
“Of course, you would think so.” She flashed him a smile so genuine and bright, he forgot to breathe for a second. “But I can tell you right now, I prefer to be on the other end of the camera. I could never get used to that.”
Tank shrugged. “All the photographers are really hoping for is a bit of a show. Paparazzi are looking for the best or the worst in celebrities.”
“Well, tonight you gave them the best,” McKenna said. “Thanks for that.”
“Can’t give my gorgeous date a hard time at her first gala, can I?”
“Gorgeous, huh? Smooth.”
Tank winked, then continued toward the ballroom.
Once inside, he spotted the bar, where quite a few of his teammates were already standing in line. “Why don’t I get us a drink while you find our table? What would you like?”
“A glass of Chardonnay would be great. Thanks.”
He nodded, lifting her hand to kiss her knuckles, perfectly aware there were at least half a dozen cameras capturing images of people as they entered. Fortunately, McKenna hadn’t noticed, so the way she flushed and smiled sweetly was certain to set the gossip pages aflame as people started to wonder who she was.
Tank reluctantly let her go and headed over to the bar.
