“Obviously, you can say no,” she added hastily, suddenly hoping he’d go that route. “We can’t force you to do this. If you’d rather stay the course with the current plan instead of?—”
“I’m not saying no. I think this is a great idea.”
She frowned, suddenly suspicious. “You do?”
“It’s a stroke of genius, really. Who knows? We could become the next Taylor/Travis sensation.”
She snorted. “Yeah, I don’t think that’s going to happen.”
“You never know,” he replied, his tone softer, more sincere than she was used to hearing from him, as he studied her face.
McKenna wasn’t used to any man looking at her like Tank, whose gaze seemed to say she was pretty. But more than that…she mattered.
Which was a ridiculous and precarious thought.
Because he couldn’t really be thinking that.
Could he?
The moment lingered, steeped in something too dangerous as the two of them looked deeply into each other’s eyes.
McKenna managed to break the connection, but only just. A huge part of her wanted to dramatically clear the top of her desk, crawl over it, and kiss the hell out of the man.
She hastily picked the Pad Thai back up and shoveled a huge helping of the spicy noodles into her mouth.
“How soon does Benny think we should launch TanKenna?”
She covered her mouth, trying not to spit out the food as she laughed. When she finally managed to swallow, she said, “That’s a horrible portmanteau.”
Tank chuckled. “I didn’t know there was a word for that, but I still like it.”
“We’re not using that.” McKenna paused. “You’re really willing to do this?”
Tank studied her face for a moment. “Why would you think I wouldn’t?”
“Because we haven’t given the positive promotion time to work. Because people have short attention spans, which means Padraig is right, ‘this too shall pass.’ And because I’m…uh…”
“Not my usual type.”
She shot him a look. “If by that you mean a giggly, shallow, ditzy puck bunny, then yeah.”
Tank laughed loudly. “Man, you don’t think much of me, do you?”
She wasn’t sure how to answer that. If he’d asked that question pre-viral video, she would have said she didn’t. Because the guy had been a strutting narcissist with an overweening sense of self. But nowadays, he’d revealed there was more to him than she realized.
“I think you’re a good guy, Tank, when you put away the Hockey God and act like yourself.”
Tank grinned. “You think ‘myself,’” he finger-quoted, “is a good guy?”
She nodded, slightly amazed by how happy her response seemed to make him. Since when did Tank care what she thought of him?
“So when are we starting this thing?” he asked again.
She sighed. “I’m sitting in the team box at tomorrow’s game.”
“Okay. You can borrow one of my jerseys.”
She brushed off the offer. “I’m sure Benny will grab me a new one from the shop. One that fits.”
