I shifted anxiously in my seat next to Bailey in the back of the limo I’d arranged to pick us up at her house and did everything I could not to look at Rory. He sat next to Gage across from us, staring out the window with his brow furrowed like he was mentally trying to hold the world together.

What on earth could the playboy Shark have to worry about?

Like a magnet, the sight of him tugged at my chest, begging me to smooth the wrinkle away and tell him whatever it was couldn’t be that bad. The man had everything from a celebrity athlete status to an endless supply of puck bunnies and fantastic parties to attend plus a job he loved and was damn good at. Just thinking about him on the ice sent warm shivers all over my skin and I licked my lips unconsciously.

Rory blinked and flipped his gaze to me, catching me practically drooling over him. I jerked my head around so fast I nearly hit Bailey with my nose.

“Paige?” She asked, placing a steady hand on my shoulder. “You all right?”

Blood rushed to my cheeks, and I straightened my back. “Perfectly fine.”

Bailey arched a knowing brow at me, but when I briefly glanced toward the two gorgeous hockey players sitting merely a foot from us, she nodded. There would be time to talk later and damn if I didn’t need her to shake some sense into me. My undeniable urge to dive across the seat and straddle Rory to check off number seven on the list right here and now was almost as consuming as the knowledge that I absolutely couldn’t do that.

Our limo finally pulled up to the Four Seasons, and I sucked in an encouraging breath. We were next in line, just like everything else in my life. As Vice President, I loved being the behind-the-scenes brains of CranBaby Organics. After all, it was my family’s multi-billion dollar corporation, but I’d yet to really feel comfortable with the more public aspect.

This black-tie gala was more than public…it was press-worthy. Dozens of flash bulbs went off as I prepared to get out of the limo, careful to keep my good-girl covered. The last thing Dad needed was to see my panties splashed on page one of the social section of the Seattle Times—not when I was this close to finally taking over as president.

Seven years of working my way up from the bottom floor, earning my position within my father’s company—despite the disbelief of outsiders—and my dream was finally coming true. Not only would I be the head of one of the largest global family products companies in the world, but I’d also be in a position of power to make a real difference, and I knew just where to start—Seattle’s homeless and underprivileged. For years I’d dreamed of revolutionizing the concept of the shelter. I wanted to make them bigger, better-stocked with food and supplies—really transform the system into a working outsource program. Give those who’d lost everything an honest chance and not the glossed over photo-op they had now.

Dad had always been generous, making donations to any charity I recommended, but this concept was my baby, and I couldn’t wait to have the resources at my disposal to bring it to light.

But I knew with the power would come sacrifice, and not just at events like tonight. I couldn’t very well live a wild life while heading the world’s most wholesome family corporation. In fact, the contract I’d sign in three months had a morality clause that said exactly that. In order to be the face of the company and my own dream organization, I had to put every dirty, scandalous whim behind me. For good.

Not that I ever did anything scandalous, anyway.

One more quick glance at Rory and my breath caught in my throat. Jeannine had been right, one night with him would totally be worth the risk.

Forcing myself out of fantasy-land, I checked to make sure the flash drive was in my clutch as we pulled up to the entrance. Matt Donaldson, the newest Oscar contender in Hollywood, was throwing this little shindig on behalf of Water, and maybe if I could get these plans into his hands, I’d have a chance at teaming up for state-of-the-art water filtration systems for the shelters.

“Thank you all for coming,” I said, glancing at Bailey and Gage but determined not to look at Rory one more time. If I did, I might lose the concentration I so desperately needed right now. “The signed gear will bring in a ton for the charity. I owe you all, big time.”

Gage smiled and reached out to squeeze Bailey’s hand. “Anything for you, Paige,” he said and a fissured cracked in my chest. I was overjoyed for Bailey—she’d gotten her dream man, and with a baby on the way, her life was pretty perfect—but I couldn’t help but feel as if those things would never be in the cards for me. Not with the life I was expected to lead as President. And while it had been my dream take over, it was more clear than ever what I would be giving up to achieve it.

I smiled at Gage who lovingly smoothed his hand over Bailey’s tummy. I’d gotten ready over at their house so I wouldn’t have to walk the red carpet alone, but with Rory only a foot away, and the lovebirds even closer to me, I was starting to wonder if I should’ve sprung for separate cars. The heat in this one was enough to melt the cool, calm demeanor an event like this demanded.

A final deep breath and my hand was on the door.

Here we go. Now don’t fall on your face.

I tossed my dark red hair to give it an extra boost and stepped out of the limo, my black heels surprisingly stable on the red carpet as I tucked my small clutch under my arm, hoping I looked more confident than I felt. I’d gone an inch higher in the heel department thanks to Jeanine’s advice, but so far hadn’t fallen on my face, so I was declaring victory.

Camera’s flashed in a succession of bursts, and the paparazzi shouted from behind two thick, golden velvet ropes that sectioned off the red carpet leading into the entrance. Damn, Matt Donaldson knew how to play to his audience.

The technique was smart, business-wise. Pump up the A-listers the second they walk into the hotel, stroke their egos, and then watch as their deep pockets loosen. Clever and all for an excellent cause.

Add to it that he’d invited the entire starting line of the Seattle Sharks, our resident NHL team, and it was enough to spin the head of any donor—male or female. Their picture was blown up about twenty feet high to my right, and it more than drew my eye. Lord have mercy, those men were dripping sex, confidence, and built like Greek gods. Gage, Warren, and Rory had been featured in Sports Illustrated as the sexiest slice of ice this side of…anywhere, and yeah, they were. Especially Rory.