Suits and Skates

Landing my dream job as the Minnesota Mammoths' new marketing director should be the triumph of my career. Instead, I'm staring down my biggest nightmare: media-training Garrett "Tank" Sullivan, the team's star defenseman who treats reporters like opposing players—something to check hard into the boards.

He's six-foot-four of pure hockey muscle wrapped in attitude, and he'd rather take a puck to the face than answer an interview question. He's also my brother's best friend, which makes him absolutely forbidden. Not that I'm interested in risking the promotion I've spent three years chasing for a man who glares at me like I personally invented media day.

But when our strategy sessions turn into sparring matches, I glimpse the intelligent, fiercely protective man hiding beneath the hockey swagger. And the way he watches my mouth when I'm talking has nothing to do with learning and everything to do with wanting.

One scandal and I'll lose the promotion that's supposed to prove I belong. One rumor and my brother will never forgive me.

So why do I keep imagining what those calloused hands would feel like tangled in my hair?