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Chelsea stared into her drink, ignoring us.
Gwen took one look at me and tapped furiously on her phone. A triumphant smile took over her face. “Really? That’s not what the pictures look like.” She turned her phone over and showed it to Chelsea.
Holy crap. Pictures? My leg started to shake.
Chelsea’s eyes grew wide and her eyes shifted to me. “You said you hated him.”
Gwen turned the phone to me. Holy shit the picture on her screen told an entirely different story. They’d caught me as I’d fallen into Evan’s arms. Any normal woman would describe my look as closer to lust than disgust.
“Real hatred all right,” Gwen teased.
“It wasn’t what it looks like,” I explained. “I tripped. He caught me.”
“Sure,” they said in unison.
“It looks like you’re enjoying him using your boob as a handhold,” Gwen added.
I’d forgotten that embarrassing part of the fall.
Gwen started reading from the article. “‘And who is the latest shark meal, the latest McAllister minx? We don’t know yet, but we promise to find out.’“
Holy crap.McAllister Minx?That made me an official brainless bimbo like every other one on Evan’s never-ending list of airhead women.
I opened my eyes again when she finished the obituary to my reputation.
Chelsea’s mouth fell open. “Shark meal?”
“I tripped, and he caught me,” I said again.
Gwen’s disbelief was clear. “So, they’re wrong? You’re not dating the Shark of Wall Street?”
I definitely hadn’t planned to break the news like this. “Well, I’m certainly not anyone’s meal, but…” I stuttered. “Well, technically yes, I am dating him.”
Chelsea gasped. “You lied to me about hating his guts?”
“No. I did—I mean I do.”
“Hold on,” Gwen said. “Sleeping with the enemy? Since when?”
Chelsea put her drink down to yell at me. “Why on God’s earth would you do that?”
Before I could answer Gwen said, “Probably so she can take garden shears to his balls when he’s sleeping.”
“Triple secret?” I challenged them with three fingers extended to the center of the table. It was our old sorority’s highest level of secrecy. Nobody dared break a triple-secret trust.
Gwen was the first to add her three fingers over mine. “This better be juicy.”
Chelsea shrugged and added her fingers to the pile. “It better not be an orgasm count. Not the way my night—” Her hand flew up to stop her mouth, which had run out of bounds, fueled by mimosas.
Gwen and I shared a look, but neither of us asked for details.
I pulled my fingers away and pointed to Chelsea’s purse. “Since last night. I thought it was worth it to secure the donation.”
Chelsea reached for her purse. “Then we’re giving it back. I’m not having you prostitute yourself for any amount. What were you thinking?” She pulled the envelope out.
Gwen put up her hand, volunteering. “He wouldn’t have to pay me to have sex with him. I’d do it for free. Have you seen him? I’d even let him eat crackers in bed.”
Chelsea looked around. “Keep it down. We’re Alpha Kappas. We can’t stoop to…” She didn’t finish, but the sentence probably would have ended with‘whoring ourselves outor worse.
