Jordan peered into the bag, and brought out some black lacy knickers, along with a matching bra. “Are these for me too?” She held them up like they were part of a police forensics operation.

Karen nodded. “They are. Free samples from work, so I got us both some.” She leaned into Jordan. “Put these on and you’ll feel invincible. Nobody else has to see them. But if anyone does, they’ll be jealous. Or about to rip them off. Just make sure it’s not the bride, and you’re golden. Didn’t you say the maid of honour was gay?”

“She is. And recently heartbroken. I know where your brain’s going, but stop right there.”

“You say recently heartbroken. I say single.” Karen put air quotes around ‘recently heartbroken’ and ‘single’.

“That’s why you should never be a matchmaker.” Jordan raised a single eyebrow in her direction.

“A gay best friend. They should do a movie about that. Is she fit?”

“Not my type.”

“You have a type?”

Jordan gave her a look. “My type is available. Delta is not that. She’s still snivelling over her last girlfriend. Plus, I’m not exactly her favourite person.”

Karen tapped her nose with her index finger. “But isn’t that how all the best romances start off? You hate each other, but then grow to love each other over time. I see promise in this one. She could be your French Fancy.” Karen chuckled at her own joke.

“Do you lie in bed thinking of these jokes?” But Jordan was smiling. She couldn’t help it.

“Focus on the maid of honour, not the bride. Got it?”

Jordan stood up, stretching out her arms as she did. “This weekend is business. Abby is getting married in less than two weeks. Pas de problème, as the French say. This is Abby’s last hurrah, and I’m going to be there to make sure it’s one she never forgets.”

Karen stood, walked up to Jordan, and pressed the lingerie bag to her chest. “That, my gorgeous friend, is my worry.”

Chapter 13

Abby climbed the steps up to the plane door. A private, smaller plane than she was used to travelling on, the door was located at the back. They were greeted by the steward, Gavin, and their pilot, Michelle. Both were around her age, impeccably suited and booted. Michelle even had a peaked cap. Gavin, meanwhile, had perfectly styled eyebrows.

“I hope you enjoy the flight,” Michelle told her with a wide smile as she shook her hand.