Page 4 of Pleasure Games

See? Jasmine consoled herself. Look how calm I am, making nice with a complete stranger as if everything is normal.

As if her whole world hadn’t been turned upside down a mere forty-eight hours ago and she hadn’t received the worst shock of her life.

Their drinks arrived, though Jasmine noticed her champagne was a little on the glass-half-empty side.

Bitch.

“So, Neil, what’s in Paris? Business or pleasure?” She downed the champagne in three swallows and pressed the call button again.

Two can play this game, gorgeous French woman.

“Oh, a comic convention. It’s the biggest one in all of Europe. I’m an illustrator.” He brushed a wisp of hair off his forehead.

“Interesting.” Jasmine helped herself to another handful of Doritos. “What kind of illustrations?”

“Do you want to see?”

“Why not?”

Neil unfastened his seat belt and retrieved a bag from the overhead compartment, taking out a sketchbook before replacing the bag and sitting down. He flipped open the sketchbook to cartoons of—well, Jasmine was having a hard time focusing, to be honest.

“The cartoon is called Betty Boobs. It’s a play on Betty Boop. It’s very popular in Europe.”

Jasmine blinked and squinted. Big-chested, naked cartoon women with a bit of 1930s flare graced the pages of his sketchpad. Getting it on. Porn. The guy drew cartoon porn.

Cool.

“Neil, can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Do you know what a beard is?” She blinked at him, forcing herself to swallow. That last sip of champagne had burned.

“You mean like facial hair?” He stroked his chin.

“No. The other connotation. Do you know it?”

His bushy brows drew together and then rose up his forehead as if filled with helium. “You mean like a gay guy who—”

“Yes.” She poked him on the arm. “That’s exactly what I mean. For example, my fiancé—well, ex-fiancé—asked me to marry him, right?”

“Okay.”

“Unbeknownst to me, I was his beard.” Reaching over to the little table in front of Neil, Jasmine snagged the can of Bud that he’d barely sampled and guzzled a good third before continuing. “We were supposed to get married yesterday.”

“Really?” His gaze was on the beer, not her.

She nodded.

Wow. She was really doing it. No tears. No temper tantrums. Just reporting the facts as if it had happened to someone else or like she was completely over it. Jasmine was proud of herself.

She drank deeply again before leaning close and placing her hand on Neil’s sweating forearm. “Yep. I’d have never known, except the night before the wedding, while I was supposed to be staying at a hotel with my friends, I came back to my apartment to pick up something I’d forgotten—something borrowed, or was it something blue?” She tapped her lips. “Hmm. Either way, that part doesn’t matter. What matters is that I caught my fiancé in bed with his best friend. They were booping. Betty Booping, if you will.”

“Holy shit,” Neil said, still eyeing the beer in her hand. “That must have been a shock.”

“Oh, yeah.” She pointed to the seat he was occupying. “My new husband was supposed to be sitting where you are sitting right now, but he’s not. Because he’s gay.”

“I’m sorry.”

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