Free Not For Sale by Sandra Marton

floor of a designer-expensive living room. “Five hundred, right?” she said, opening her handbag.
    Caroline nodded as she looked around her. She’d been in the apartments of a couple of other grad students. They all looked like hers: thrift shop furniture, dingy walls.
    Dani’s place was a palace.
    “Wow,” Caroline said softly.
    Dani swung toward her, followed Caroline’s gaze and smiled. “Like it?”
    “It’s beautiful.”
    Dani cocked her head. “You know,” she said slowly, “you could have a place like this, if you wanted.”
    “Me?” Caroline laughed. “Right. By hitting the lottery.”
    Dani smiled again. “By working.”
    “Oh, sure.”
    “I’m serious, Caroline. I could, you know, get you started. Introduce you to some people, help you buy some clothes.”
    Caroline shook her head. “I don’t understand. You mean, model?”
    “Model?” Dani laughed. “Well, that’s one way of considering it.”
    “Thanks, but I don’t think—”
    The doorbell pealed. Dani made a face. “I was
so
not expecting company this afternoon! Here.” She held out five hundred-dollar bills. “Well, go on, take the money.”
    Caroline did. Hesitantly. Suddenly, accepting it seemed dead wrong. Her stomach gave a little jump.
    “May I—may I use the bathroom?”
    “Down the hall, on the right.” Dani rolled her eyes as she
click-clicked
her way to the door. “Just be quick, okay? I told you, I have a date.”
    Caroline locked the bathroom door behind her. She felt hot and cold all at once. The money, the damned money had reminded her of everything all over again. Why had she come here? Why had she accepted the five hundred dollars? Well, she wouldn’t. She’d give it back. She’d—
    Ohmygod!
    She could hear voices. Dani’s. And a man’s. Not just any man. The voice belonged to Lucas Vieira.
    Quickly, she undid the lock. Stepped into the hall. SawLucas, his tall, powerful body so familiar to her now. And Dani, facing him, hands on her hips, face tilted up.
    “Of course I’m Dani Sinclair,” she was saying. “And who the hell are you?”
    “I am Lucas Vieira,” Lucas growled. “And you are not Dani Sinclair.”
    “Don’t be ridiculous! I should know who I—”
    “Lucas?”
    Caroline moved slowly down the hall. Lucas looked up. She saw the confusion in his eyes. “Dani?”
    “Dani?” the real Dani said, and then she laughed. “I get it! You’re the guy from last night. And you think that she, that Caroline, is me!”
    Lucas’s expression went from perplexed to confused. “What the hell is going on here?”
    Caroline licked her lips. “I can explain. I’m really Caroline. Caroline Hamilton. See, Dani was supposed to—to be your translator—”
    Lucas’s mouth twisted. “My date, you mean,” he said tonelessly. “The one Jack Gordon arranged.”
    “I don’t know anybody named Jack Gordon. Dani arranged it. And yes, I was supposed to be your date.”
    “And you agreed.”
    “Well, yes. I didn’t want to do it. I really, really didn’t want to do it. But you have to understand, I needed the money.”
    “You needed the money.” Lucas’s gaze fell to the bills Caroline clutched in her hand, then rose to her face.
“Cristos,”
he growled, the word thick with disgust, “you needed the money.”
    Caroline drew herself up. “Five hundred dollars might not mean anything to you, but to me—”
    Lucas swung toward Dani. “That’s it? Gordon paid you your usual fee and all you gave her was five hundred dollars?”
    “No one’s paid me a dime yet,” Dani said coolly. “All I’ve had out of this so far is more trouble than I really want.”
    “What usual fee? Who’s Jack Gordon? What trouble?” Caroline came quickly forward, stopped inches from Lucas, whose anger was all but palpable. “Lucas.” Her voice trembled. “Five hundred dollars is a lot of money. I needed it. And, for whatever it’s worth, I’ve never done anything like that before.”
    She saw a stillness