glances around the room. Is she on Candid Camera or something? One of those hilarious prank shows? This cannot be happening.
“What do you say?” Jason asks.
She turns back to him just as he begins drawing circles on her bare knee with his fingers. “You’re not serious?”
Because he can’t be.
“I’m very serious. Think about it, Callie. Five hundred dollars a week. All you have to do is what all college kids do anyway.”
“What? Put out? Sleep around with anyone who asks? I don’t know what kind of women you know, but I’m not that way. Contrary to popular belief, most college girls aren’t that way.”
Jason rolls his eyes. He actually rolls his eyes!
“Come on. Not too many girls would pass this up. I’m a good-looking guy, athletic, built, and that’s a lot of money. Besides, you’re selling yourself anyway. What’s the difference?”
Callie jumps to her feet. Her hands ball into fists and her jaw locks so tight it takes everything in her to loosen it so she can speak. “I get paid to go on dates! By men who have no time to meet women! Or just want company but no relationship. I’m not a damn prostitute!”
Jason snickers. “Call it whatever you want. It’s all the same. And everyone has a price.”
“Gah! You’re disgusting. Disgusting! And I am so out of here,” she says, but before she can turn around, he grabs her wrist and stops her.
“Are you sure you wanna turn me down? I’d think long and hard about rejecting this offer. I have connections, and I can make life on campus just a little more difficult.”
Callie glances down at the large hand wrapped around her wrist, and her stomach clenches. She swallows back her fear and refuses to let him intimidate her. “Oh, I’m sure,” she hisses, and, with a flick of her glass, she splashes the entire contents of the ruby-red wine onto his face, then tosses the glass to the floor, where it shatters.
He sputters and blinks through the liquid, wiping at his eyes, but Callie doesn’t stand around to watch. She’s already heading for the door, and on her way out, hears his parting words.
“You’ll regret this.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
DEAN
“You. Are. So. Busted.” His sister stands in the doorway of his dorm room and pokes him in the chest, emphasizing each word.
He knocks her hand away and rubs his sternum. “What are you talking about?”
Jinny sticks her head inside, moving her gaze about the room. “You know what! Are you in here gorging yourself on cookie dough ice cream like some hormonal teenage girl?”
Dean runs a hand through his already disheveled hair and tries to hold onto his quickly dissipating patience. “What do you want, Jinny? It’s been a long day. I’m tired. Emmett and I are just having a couple beers while we watch some action flicks with gratuitous violence and sex. Not something you’d be interested in.”
He begins to shut the door in her face. If he’s being honest with himself, he’s still pissed at her for not siding with him on Callie’s situation. She can’t possibly be that blind or dumb, and the fact that she is, where this whole escort business is concerned, irritates him to no end. It’s partly her fault Callie’s out with a snake like Jason—partly her fault Callie’s going out with tons of slimy, loser guys, for that matter.
Jinny slams her open palm on the door and stops it from closing. “Uh, no you don’t.” Without an invite, she pushes it open enough to slide inside and move around Dean.
Emmett turns, eyes wide, as if he hadn’t heard their bickering until now. But one look at Jinny and an appreciative smile lights up his face. “Hey, gorgeous. It’s been a while. Miss me?”
Jinny grimaces, and Emmett throws her a couple air kisses before he shoots up from his bunk. “I know. I could barely stand it, too. It’s been too long since we’ve seen each other. We can’t keep letting this happen. Who cares if my best friend is your brother? We can’t