Chapter 1

ONE

Heads turned as Charlotte Davis strolled into the elementary school's multipurpose room on the arm of her older brother. It had been several years since she'd sucked up the focus of everyone around her when making an entrance. As a spoiled, socialite heiress in her late teens and early twenties, she'd reveled in being the center of attention. Now, however, not so much.

Not that it was easy for either Charlotte or her tall, dark, and handsomely wealthy half-brother, Jay McManus, to fly under the radar. Among his many business holdings, Jay owned the Baltimore Blaze, the football team most of the people gathered at the school tonight likely cheered for. He couldn't go anywhere in the Mid-Atlantic area without being recognized by fans.

As for Charlotte, she'd spent most of her life cursing the fiery red hair that announced her presence like a homing beacon everywhere she went. Coupled with her giraffe-like height—five foot ten without her Louboutin heels—it was hard to make a discreet entrance anywhere. She'd gone to great lengths tonight, however, taming her distinctive hair into a sleek, low ponytail and donning a subdued navy Roberto Cavalli jumpsuit, hoping to blend in.

No such luck, apparently.

While a celebrity at the exclusive private school's kick-off fundraiser probably wasn't uncommon, a notorious tabloid princess among their midst was sure to have tongues wagging in the carpool line come Monday.

Jay nodded as the woman taking their tickets reminded them the silent auction would end soon, with the live auction to begin immediately after. The chatter among the other guests dropped a notch while Charlotte and Jay made their way toward the tables displaying the donated items. She sensed everyone's gaze tracking their progress. Jay stiffened beneath her hold when several of the moms eyed him speculatively. The whispers had doubtless already started in the far corners of the room, guests exchanging theories about where his beautiful wife might be.

She has pink eye, Charlotte wanted to shout. Likely picked up from one of your precious little snowflakes at sneak peek yesterday.

She patted his arm as if to say I got you .

Jay let out a half-hearted chuckle. "Thanks for being my date tonight, Charlie. Bridgett did a lot of research before we decided to send the twins here for kindergarten." He sighed. "She really wanted to make a good first impression with the other parents. It's important to both of us that Vivi and Gray have as normal an upbringing as possible."

Unlike yours.

He didn't come out and say the words. He didn't have to. They both knew her childhood was anything but normal. Charlotte doubted the private school she had attended on New York City's upper east side even had a PTA. If the school needed something funded, the parents simply stroked another check. No need for charity auctions with catered tacos and free-flowing margarita machines, aimed at loosening inhibitions and opening wallets.

She couldn't fault her brother and Bridgett for wanting their kids to have a stable, grounded life. Growing up under the media's microscope was not something she wished on her worst enemy, much less her niece and nephew. Whatever it took to shield Vivian and Grayson from the trolls of the world, Charlotte was down for it. Nurturing and protecting them had become second nature to her since the start of their lives.

Charlotte reassured Jay with another pat on the arm. "Stop worrying. Those two will be fine."

His gray eyes grew shiny. "Yeah, they will. Thanks to you."

"Don't!" she commanded before glancing around. Only a handful of people were aware that she was the twins' surrogate. And that's exactly the way Charlotte wanted to keep it. Carrying the two babies was her gift to her brother, the person who had been the one constant in her life. And the sister-in-law who made him an even better man.

When the twins were old enough to understand, they'd explain the process of their birth to them. For now, the fewer people who knew, the better. Given how the media treated her, there was no telling how they'd frame the story. For sure not in a way that would make sense to a pair of five-year-olds.

He swallowed roughly, then nodded. "Like I said, I appreciate you stepping in for Bridgett."

"Are you kidding me? I flew halfway around the world just for this moment. It's always been my dream to attend an auction in a room that reeks of smelly gym shoes and fish sticks." She nudged him with her shoulder playfully.

"And here I thought you came home to hire a CEO to manage your company."

Her brother's offhand comment had her enthusiasm for a night out waning. Her cosmetics company, Truly Yours, had grown so quickly that its day-to-day management was becoming overwhelming. Since its inception, Charlotte had been directing the operations. Jay's wife, Bridgett, a brilliant trial attorney, pitched in more and more as the company grew. Without her—and Charlotte's mother—there would be no Truly. But things like supply chain and manufacturing weren't exactly in the attorney's wheelhouse. And Charlotte's education as a jet-setting socialite didn't bring much else to the table. Lately, Truly's investors were becoming a bit more vocal about the company needing someone with business savvy at the helm.

If only bringing in someone else didn't make her feel like such a failure.

She shook her head at her brother's statement, wishing she could stave off her investors the same way. "That could have been done virtually. I haven't been back to the States since Christmas. And I didn't want to miss the twins' first day of school." Which was the truth. She wanted to share in as many important aspects of their lives as Jay and Bridgett would allow.

"Nonetheless, I'm sure there are more exciting things a single woman would rather be doing on a Friday night. Even here in Baltimore."

"It's barely seven-thirty. We've got hours until the club scene heats up. Most of the people going out tonight are likely pre-gaming with a nap."

He shuddered. "Damn. When did I get so ancient? Just the thought of going out anywhere after nine makes me cranky."

"Well, I'll let you in on a little secret." She leaned in. "My bedtime isn't much later. In fact, I haven't been out clubbing in years." Not with a beauty empire threatening to run amok.

He pressed a hand to his chest, his voice mocking. "Say it isn't so? Who are you and what have you done with the impulsive wild child Princess Charlotte?"

She shot her brother a withering look as she slid her arm from his and casually perused the items laid out on the long tables. The paparazzi had dubbed her "Princess Charlotte" when she was fifteen. At first, she adored the ridiculous nickname, steering into the skid and acting out the part of the reckless, pampered heiress to perfection, much to the delight of tabloid editors around the globe.

At least someone was paying attention.

Left out of her father's will, Jay had taken off to parts unknown to lick his wounds and make his own fortune. The grief of burying two husbands sent their scientist mother back into the lab, where she felt more in control of her world. That left Charlotte to navigate the difficult coming of age years while on a very long, gilded leash. It wasn't as if she was neglected physically. She had plenty of money and staff to see to her needs and her wants.

Except her most important one.

Love.

So, she'd traipsed around the world searching for the attention she wasn't getting from her family. It didn't take long for her to find it. Unfortunately, it took a few years longer for her to realize most people were more enamored with her trust fund than with her.

Thankfully, both Jay and their mother found their way back into her life before things got dire. And with Bridgett and the twins, they were a proper family. Finally. It was revitalizing to ditch the Princess Charlotte label, and all the ridiculousness that went with it.

Charlotte had spent the last six years quietly remaking herself as a successful businesswoman. She'd tapped into her mother's renowned science brain to start a sustainable cosmetics company aimed at teenage girls. The purpose behind Truly You is to empower young women to love themselves as they are. To choose simple, healthy makeup, but only when needed.

Much to her surprise, the products took off among teens around the world. Young women embraced the idea of healthy skin and "less is more." Charlotte unwittingly found herself as the voice of a new generation of women who wanted to feel free to be themselves—unfiltered—and not constantly aspiring to turn themselves into what they saw in magazines or on social media. They proudly sported the affirmation bracelets Charlotte wore on her own wrist, the simple bands selling out often.

The three simple silver bands served as Charlotte's talisman, grounding her when days got rough. She never took them off. They were a gift from Jay more than a decade earlier. The inscriptions on them reminded her daily not to give up. That she would prevail. Every night, before she closed her eyes, she told herself the life she'd built was enough. That all she needed was her career and her family to fill up her well with love.

Mostly.

She fingered one of the beaded bracelets someone had donated. It looked to be handmade by an artisan just cutting their chops on jewelry design. A student here at Shepard, perhaps. Still, it was lovely. She'd give it to Vivian. "Give me your pen," she demanded of Jay.

Her brother reached into his suit pocket and pulled out his silver Montblanc. He arched an eyebrow as he handed it over.

"What? Isn't it the point of the evening to buy things?" She scribbled her name and a dollar amount on the form.

"Oh my gosh," a female voice gushed behind her.

Charlotte turned around to find a woman clasping her cellphone to her chest.

"My daughter made that. She's in the upper school," the woman said. "She was hoping someone would bid on it. But she'll absolutely freak out when I tell her you did. Both my girls are so inspired by you. They love your lip gloss. And the bracelets, of course."

The woman pointed to the three slim silver bangles Charlotte never took off her wrist. They'd been the inspiration for the affirmation bracelets that were now so popular.

"That's lovely to hear," Charlotte replied. "Please tell your daughter she does beautiful work."

The woman gestured with her cellphone. "Would it be okay if I got a picture of you standing beside it? My girls won't believe me without photo evidence."

Charlotte laughed. "I get it. It didn't happen without the pictures to prove it."

She picked up the beaded bracelet and wrapped it around her wrist before smiling for the camera. The woman snapped the photo, thanking Charlotte profusely.

"You're a wonderful role model for our girls. Especially your message about paying attention in school so they will have the tools to pursue their passions. We moms appreciate them having someone like you for them to look up to."

If only I'd followed my advice and took school more seriously. I wouldn't be handing my company over to someone else to run.

Jay wrapped an arm around Charlotte's waist as the woman made her way back to her table.

"Have I told you how proud I am of you?" her brother, who managed multiple enterprises, murmured.

"At least a million times."

Neither mentioned the irony that a decade earlier, most mothers wouldn't want Charlotte's influence on any of their offspring. Her outrageous clothing—if the flesh-baring outfits she'd paraded around in could even be called that—and rash decisions were well documented by the paparazzi for everyone passing through grocery store checkout lines to see. It was a good thing her days of reckless behavior were behind her.

The lights dimmed, and a woman announced the close of the silent auction. Jay led them to two seats at a table near the back of the room.

"You should have at least put your name on something," she chastised her brother. "Isn't the point to fit in?"

"Relax," he whispered. "The Blaze community relations staff is donating an experience to the live auction."

"Welcome everyone," the woman who had taken their tickets minutes earlier said from the stage. "We have five unique student opportunities tonight for you to bid on. Remember, this is for the children, so don't be stingy."

There were a few groans mixed in with the applause from the crowd as the woman handed the microphone off to the auctioneer.

"First on the docket is the ever-popular Shepard Academy carpool lane street sign," he announced.

A cheer rose, along with the tension in the room, as everyone scooted to the edge of their seats. Charlotte exchanged a "who-knew" look with her brother when the bidding reached nearly two thousand dollars for the chance to have the carpool lane named after their child for a year. That was followed by an opportunity to have the principal dress up as a bumble bee and chauffeur a student around in her yellow VW "punch bug." The good-natured bidding volleyed back and forth throughout the room. The parents were becoming much more animated as the night wore on.

"And for our last experience," the auctioneer announced thirty minutes later. "We owe a special thank you to Jay and Bridgett McManus, parents of rising kindergartners, Vivian and Grayson, for their one-of-a-kind donation." He raised his arm to gesture to a man standing in the wings, waving him onto center stage. "An afternoon of bowling with Blaze quarterback, Noah Hudson."

A chorus of gasps filled the room when the auctioneer was at once dwarfed by six-foot-five feet and two hundred thirty-five pounds of well-honed muscle. Charlotte had long ago memorized his stats from the Blaze website. His sandy hair was neatly combed, except for the perpetual cowlick that always seemed to have several strands standing at attention above his left eye. This far away, it was difficult to read his expression, but she was sure those soulful, dark brown eyes were quickly sizing up the room just like they do on the football field right before he snaps the ball.

Decked out in khakis and a Blaze quarter-zip, Noah gave the crowd a shy head bob and a wave. He wasn't much for words. Charlotte knew that firsthand.

Just as she knew his lips were skilled in activities that didn't involve talking.

"Let's hope ‘Dudson' can bowl better than he can pass," a guy behind them shouted.

A few nervous laughs rang out, while most of the audience applauded politely. Beside her, Jay let out a low growl of disgust at the nickname that odious sports podcaster, Bucky Kincaid, had saddled the Blaze quarterback with. Charlotte didn't dare take her eyes off Noah. Other than his shoulders inching up a notch, he took the crowd's reaction in stride.

There had been lots of chatter among the talking heads on sports radio and television about Noah's abilities as a pro quarterback during the off season. Kincaid's voice being the loudest among them. He was always at the forefront of any discussion, questioning whether the second-round draft pick had the mental toughness to make the cut in the league. Especially after sitting five years behind Blaze legend, Shane Devlin. It didn't help matters that the Blaze were three and fourteen last season, Noah's first as the team's starting quarterback. In a town used to winning championships, that sort of record didn't sit well with the fans.

"Let's get the bidding started at one hundred dollars," the auctioneer said.

"That's probably higher than his bowling score," the loudmouth at the back yelled.

Charlotte watched Noah's lips twitch ever-so slightly as he struggled to maintain a relaxed smile. She squirmed in her seat, anxious for the quarterback.

"You couldn't simply donate a case of wine from your vineyard or something?" she hissed at her brother.

"We did," he snapped. "In the silent auction."

"I'll take him for a hundred dollars," a woman at the front offered.

Jay groaned at the obvious double entendre while the crowd tittered.

Another woman waved her napkin and offered two hundred dollars. Suddenly, women throughout the room were bidding on Noah.

Charlotte glared at her brother. "Who thought objectifying one of your players was a good idea?"

"The experience is a damn bowling party with kids. A way to connect with fans." Jay tugged at the knot in his tie. "His school age fans. I have no idea what these women think they are getting."

With a huff, she pulled her phone from her purse and swiped through social media until she found the video Bucky Kincaid posted yesterday on his site. It was intrusive footage shot by the paparazzi of Noah washing his vintage Bronco, wearing nothing but a pair of skimpy workout shorts. Fifteen seconds of mouthwatering, rippling muscles and damp, sun-kissed skin, before Noah realized he was being filmed and threatened the paps away. Twenty-four hours later, the video had over seven hundred thousand likes and tens of thousands of comments. Most of them women leaving their DM handles.

"This should give you some idea what these women ‘think they are getting.'" She slammed the phone down on the table.

Her brother blanched as he watched the video. "Fuck."

The room was buzzing around them, and the bidding climbed to twenty-four hundred dollars.

"Twenty-five?" the auctioneer called. "Do we have twenty-five hundred?"

Charlotte shot from her seat. "Twenty-five!"

"Twenty-five hundred dollars to the lady in the back."

"No," she shouted. "Twenty-five thousand dollars."