I stared, his bald question leaving no room for misunderstanding. The heat between us intensified, nearly crackling with tension. There was something about him that screamed SEX even if I didn’t want to think of his naked body working mine.

I wasn’t the type to go Marilyn-Monroe-breathless but my heart skipped a beat when his gaze pinned mine.

“Pretty bold don’t you think?” I finally shot back, shaking my head at his balls. “Maybe you’re not my type.” I added with a shrug, “Maybe I’m a lesbian.”

“Are you?”

I couldn’t lie. “No.”

He laughed. “Okay, then where’s the harm in telling me what I want to know?”

“Because sharing that information would imply that I was interested in letting you touch me — which I’m not.”

Another lie. He had sexy on blast but this was exactly how problems started in my life. I ignored common sense and went with my feelings. Not anymore. Nope. Going to use my head from now on.

Mom and dad would be so proud. Ha!

But Gage had an agenda and he was putting plans in motion, no matter my opinion on the matter. “I want you, Mari,” Gage stated, leaning back, kicking his leg out casually beneath the scratched and ruined table. “Name your price.”

“N-name my price?” I stuttered, incredulous. “What does that mean? And what makes you think I even have a price that I would offer? I’m not a vendor at a flea market, ready to haggle over an item…especially when that item is me.”

His smirk did crazy things to my belly even as his answer pissed me off fresh. “Everyone has a price. Even you. I'm willing to bet your price is a lot lower than you think it would be.”

Oh, hell no, what? “Did you just insult me?”

“Not at all. Just sharing a bit of what I know about human nature.”

“Well, you don’t know shit about me,” I said, rising. “I’m done with this ridiculous game. I don’t care how rich you are, you can’t buy me.”

Fuck Manny and his greed. He could find someone else to pander to the rich asshole, I was out.

“You’re broke. You’ll be homeless by the end of the month because you can’t pay your rent and something tells me you aren’t going to make enough in tips to get what you need by month’s end.”

His calm voice at my back froze my feet. I turned slowly. “How the fuck do you know my personal business?”

He waved away my question as if I were naive. “Nothing is private, sweetheart. I can get everything I need to know about you with the push of a button. Financial records are the easiest.” He paused only to punctuate his point. “Is my intel wrong? Do you have a secret stash of cash in your mattress that you’re holding onto for a rainy day?”

No, he wasn’t wrong but holy hell, what the fuck? “I’m pretty sure what you did was illegal but I’m very certain poking around in someone else’s bank account is, at the very least, rude.”

He shrugged as if he didn’t care. “Perhaps,” he admitted, offering, “I’m not judging you; I’m here to offer you a fair sum of money for your services.”

As if that made it any better.

“Yeah? Well, I’m judging you pretty hard right now,” I shot back, trying not to think of the wad of cash in Manny’s office.

I folded my arms across my chest. Maybe he was offering me a job? Like a legit way to earn some cash. I guess I’d be stupid to walk away before learning the details. “Money to do what?” I asked, giving him a sidewise glance so he knew I still thought he was shady.

He gestured for me to return to my seat. I didn’t want to — my dignity screamed at me to give him the middle finger and stomp out — but the realist in me, set my feet in motion.

The least I could do was listen, right? Maybe he needed a bartender or waitress for some fancy shindig.

“Spend the night with me.”

So much for something legit.

“Excuse me?” He didn’t deign to repeat himself, leaving me to stare. “Spend the night with you…to do what?”

“Whatever I choose.”

Ohhh, hell no. “No thanks. I’m not stupid. No amount of money will replace my face if you decide you want to wear it.”

At that he actually laughed. “See? I never know what’s going to come out of your mouth.”

“I’m not kidding. No way.”

He sobered but the faint reminder of his amusement sparkled in his eyes as he scribbled a number on a bar napkin and pushed it toward me. “Since you wouldn’t name a price…I’ll start the opening offer.”

Opening offer? What was this Sotheby’s, Dive Bar Style? “I’m not for fucking sale,” I told him, irritated that he refused to listen. I opened my mouth to tell him to stuff the napkin where the sun didn’t shine but my gaze snagged on the amount.

So many zeroes.

The spit dried in my mouth. Was he insane? I stared, incredulous.

“You’re fucking with me. No one would pay that kind of money for the night.”

“I would.”

“Why?”

“My reasons are my own. Just say yes.”

Indecision paralyzed me for a telling moment. I hated that I was even hesitating. Was there something wrong with me that I was actually considering his offer?

Of course there was! If anyone had tried to slide the same offer to my twin, Tara, she would’ve sent that offer straight back to them so fast their head would’ve spun off their shoulders.

But I wasn’t Tara.

I was the fuck-up, Mari.

The one who who’d never pulled good grades in school; the one who’d flirted with and fantasized about her softball coach; the one who’d gotten kicked off the cheer squad for ditching school and getting caught drunk off-campus.

Yeah, like I said, I’d never been in the running for the award of Smartest Decision Maker or sadly even, Most Inspirational.

That’d always been Tara’s department.

But I could start, right?

I could ignore that desperate fear of becoming homeless and tell him to fuck off.

I could swallow my pride and ask my grandparents for money to finally return home. Yes, asking for the money would burn like fire in my gut and likely score my soul forever but at least I’d have my dignity intact.

What if I discovered my dignity wasn’t worth all that much and I would’ve much rather sacrificed my morals for a little security?

Yeah, but equally, what if, when Tara found out, she never looked at you the same way again?

As much as I talked crap about my twin…her opinion of me mattered. I swallowed the sticky lump in my throat as my head swam but I still managed to eke out, “You must be deaf. I said no.”

I was feeling pretty proud until he said, “Add another zero, I don’t care, but you’re leaving with me tonight.”

And things just got real.

Real complicated.

Or, maybe, they just got a little easier.