I stabbed my fork into the omelet wondering what alternate universe I found myself. I was eating breakfast with a roguish playboy who went out of his way to find places for me to shop, who comforted me, and yet needed a babysitter to keep him out of trouble. Not to mention, our standard of living was light years apart.
We finished our breakfast quickly, and I moved to clean up our dishes. He stopped me by cupping my chin and turning my head to inspect the bruising along my cheek. He delicately touched the split on my lip and my breath froze.
“How do you feel? I should have asked you sooner.” His eyes pierced mine, the light gray color taking me by surprise as he carefully studied me. “If you don’t feel like shopping, we can postpone it for another day.”
I barely shook my head. The warm touch of his hand paralyzed me. A glint of admiration shone in his eyes as he stroked my cheek with his thumb. “You are strong, but you must tell me if you grow weary while we’re out. Deal?”
“Yes,” I replied, my tongue darting out to touch the cut he’d tended. His gaze followed the motion before he stepped away.
“We should be off then.”
I nodded, and grabbed my purse as I followed him to the elevator. It dinged and I stepped forward, before stopping suddenly at the sight of a man standing on the other side.
“Buster! About time you showed up,” Ian said jovially. It took a second to get my breathing under control as I stared at the giant’s arrival. I had to tilt my head back to see his face, but I didn’t miss the blood smeared on his white shirt as he studied me suspiciously.
“She doesn’t look like one of your usual,” the man named Buster rumbled, his expression disdainful as he studied me. I stared right back at him, baffled by his presence and his attitude. He had close-cropped auburn hair and so many freckles it looked like he had a tan, but it was his size that consumed my attention. He was how I imagined a blacksmith would look. Broad chested with huge biceps that looked like they could throw grown men across a room.
“She’s not one of my usual,” Ian snapped irritably and I glanced over at him curiously. “You know Michael doesn’t allow them here anyway.”
“Yes, but I also know your love of breaking rules,” Buster grumbled, his voice sounding like rocks tumbling down a mountain.
“I’m his babysitter,” I announced, holding out my hand bravely even as I hoped he didn’t break it off. He stared down at me for a moment before roaring with laugher.
“You? His babysitter? Now, I might have actually heard it all.” His words rolled over me and even though he was insulting me, I couldn’t stop my smile at his accent. It was slightly different from the crisp tones of Ian and Michael, but I couldn’t place it. Ian’s eyes glinted dangerously and Buster abruptly stopped laughing. “You’re serious? What the hell?”
“No cursing,” I piped up. “Rule number one.”
He blinked at me and Ian snorted.
“It’s a long story,” Ian told him, dragging me around the giant standing there in disbelief. “Suffice to say she’ll be staying with us, and acting as my babysitter. You should appreciate it. One less task for you,” Ian said cheerfully, nudging one of Buster’ feet out of the way of the elevator door. He gave a jaunty wave as the doors closed on Buster and I giggled at the sight of shell-shocked face.
When we arrived at the lobby, Ian escorted me to the valet area and, as I gazed around at the lobby I hadn’t gotten a chance to see the day before. A valet handed Ian his keys immediately, the car already waiting for us. He opened the car door, helping me in before going around to the driver side. “Buckle up, Jane. I’m still not used to driving on the wrong side of the road here.” My panicked glance seemed to amuse him as he peeled out of the garage. He drove aggressively, but maintained complete control and I slowly relaxed.
Our first stop was a dress shop and immediately after entering, I wanted to turn around and leave. I shook my head as Ian gave me a questioning look when I hesitated at the door. The clothing was formal and not my style at all, but Ian kept me from leaving as a woman walked up to us. With one look, she dismissed me and Ian’s eyes narrowed. I attempted to hide behind him, but he wouldn’t allow it.
“We need a complete wardrobe for my friend.” He informed her silkily and she took a second look at me. “Her luggage was lost and she’s been forced to wear my things. I’d like to amend the situation as soon as possible. Can you assist us?”
The saleslady practically simpered at his British accent and the promise of a fat commission, and I rolled my eyes.
“Of course, you’ve come to the right place. We’ll have her taken care of in no time at all.” Her distaste at my appearance was obvious, and I frowned. “We’ll take her measurements and have a personal shopper gather items as you enjoy some light refreshments.” She spoke only to Ian, managing to ignore my presence completely, even though I was the reason we were there. Her attitude annoyed me, and I had no intention of sitting around while a personal shopper found clothes for me. It sounded expensive and no telling what they’d show up with.
Ian glanced down at me as I tugged on his arm.
“Let’s go. This isn’t the place for me,” I told him quietly, keeping my eyes averted from the frozen smile on the saleslady’s face. She reminded me of a mannequin with her clothes hanging from her bony frame.
“Quite right.” He winked at me and pasted a matching fake smile on his face as he turned to the mannequin. “I’m afraid you won’t do. You’ve made quite an effort to ignore my companion. Why I’m not sure, but regardless, we won’t be shopping here today.” He turned and, with a gentle hand on my back, guided me to the door.
The second place was more casual, a hip little boutique not far from the French Quarter. I glanced longingly down the street wanting to explore the vibrant city I found myself in, but forced myself into the shop. Clothing took precedence at the moment.
I meandered through the racks, overwhelmed by the choices. Nothing came close to resembling what I normally wore, and the variety of options made deciding what to try difficult. Ian picked up on my dazed state and guided me toward a selection of tops.
“This one would look striking with your skin.” He picked up a jewel colored top, one of the few that didn’t appear to bare an unnecessary amount of skin. I nodded and he held on to it, pushing me toward a display of jeans. “You wanted pants. I believe jeans are an American favorite.”
I flipped through them and something occurred to me.
“Ian.”
“Yes?”
“I don’t even know what size I wear.” The admission was vaguely embarrassing as I stood in front of the stacks of jeans, but Ian only bumped me out of the way.
“No worries.” He winked as he checked the tag and held up a pair. He put it back as he said, “I’m an expert at sizing a woman up.” The next pair had his approval, and he handed them to me, along with the top he’d picked out. “Now, let’s go have you try these on.”
At the door of the dressing room, I stopped him. “I can dress myself.”
“Ah, yes. I’ll wait here then, and you can model them for me.” He gave a quick wiggle of his eyebrows and settled onto a seat outside the dressing room. I went in and quickly changed into the top, but stopped short when I saw the price tag on the jeans. I marched back out of the dressing room holding them in my hand. Ian jumped up at my appearance, his brow furrowed in puzzlement as I waved the jeans at him.
“The top is lovely, but why haven’t you tried the jeans? I think they’d be smashing together.”
“They’re six hundred dollars,” I hissed, holding the tag up so he could see. A blank look accompanied his next words.
“What’s the problem? They seem like nice jeans.”
“They’re six hundred dollars.” I couldn’t seem to manage to say anything else. The price tag held me in disbelief, until another thought occurred to me. “How much is the top I’m wearing?” I raised my arms trying to find a tag, and Ian stopped me.
“What di
fference does it make, love? The cost doesn’t bother me. If you like it we’ll get it.”
“It bothers me!” I poked him in the chest and his eyes popped in surprise. “I shop at Wal-Mart and Goodwill stores. I’ve never spent six hundred dollars on anything, much less a single pair of pants, and I won’t start today.”
I spun on my heel back to the dressing room where I took off the, ah three hundred dollar top, and changed back to the oversized t-shirt I’d borrowed from Ian. I set the clothes on the table for discards and took Ian’s hand.
“We are going to find a thrift store or a Wal-Mart,” I said determinedly, waving the girl away as she asked if we’d found everything okay.
“I’m dying to see this Wal-Mart place you keep going on about. It must be something special if you insist on purchasing your clothing there,” Ian exclaimed, as he allowed himself to be pulled down the street.
“You can also buy groceries and get the oil changed in your car while you shop,” I informed him, to his stunned incredulity. My determined march slowed as I caught sight of a secondhand shop up ahead. “This is what I’m talking about.”
“Hmm?” Ian glanced up at my words, obviously still considering the idea of a one-stop store. I dragged him inside and instantly felt more at ease. The girl behind the register gave us a casual wave as I moved toward the back. “What is this place?”
“It’s a secondhand store,” I told him. “People bring in clothes they don’t want anymore and the shop sells them.”
“So, you’re essentially buying clothing already purchased and worn by another?”
“Exactly.” I smiled at him as I sifted through a rack of pants. They were somewhat sorted, casual separated from the dress pants, and I was excited to try them on. I’d begged my mom for years to let me wear pants, but she insisted they weren’t feminine and didn’t believe a woman should wear men’s clothing. A smile played on my lips as I imagined what she’d think of me now, my outfit borrowed entirely from a man’s closet. There was nothing shameful about it, indeed it was nothing but kindness on Ian’s part, but convenience nor necessity were good enough excuses for my mom. “What size did you decide I was?” I asked him, as I noticed the pants grouped by size.
“Around a six or an eight. Depends on brand. Women’s clothing sizes are ridiculous.” He lifted a pair of jeans from the rack and eyed them. “These will probably work.” He scanned the store curiously. “Are you positive you wish to shop here?” He seemed to find the idea more puzzling than distasteful, which kept me from being automatically offended. Ian might be wealthy and a snob, but I hadn’t gotten the impression of a jerk from him.
“Yes,” I told him, waiting to see if he demanded we go elsewhere. I would be spending the summer with him in his home, and he may not feel clothing from a thrift store was up to those standards. I held my breath, not sure how to react if he did request we go somewhere else.
“Okay,” he answered as he took another pair of jeans and then slacks off the rack. He handed them to me and said, “I’m going to find you a dress for dinner tonight. You’ll need tops, and let me be clear ….” I waited to see what demand he would make and laughed as he said, “You will not be purchasing undergarments from this store. Those will be new.”
“Agreed.” I tried to contain my smile as I moved to the tops, but as I peeked over the rack to watch him I found it impossible. He continually surprised me with the ease in which he went along with my ideas. I already knew Michael would never have agreed with the thrift store, but Ian considered it an adventure.
We met at the dressing room, our arms full of clothing. I pushed the curtain back and hung the clothing on the hook. Ian fingered the material of the curtain.
“You change behind a curtain? There’s not even a door.” His accent became more apparent with his outrage. “Anyone could walk by and take a peek.” He shook his head. “I will be standing right here.”
“My own personal guard. How sweet.” I shot him a smile and jerked the curtain closed. “Just so long as you don’t take a peek,” I reminded him with an arched eyebrow.
“Let me know if you need any assistance. Buttons, zippers, anything of the sort.” My laughter was at his response as I heard him give a gusty sigh. “I try to be nothing if not helpful and this is the answer I get. Woe is me.”
My laugher at his dramatics was cut off as I attempted to wriggle into the jeans he’d given me to try. “Ian, do you really think this is my size? They feel a bit snug.” More like tight enough to cause strangulation, but I didn’t mention that.
“I believe they call them skinny jeans. They’re supposed to be snug.”
“These may be too skinny for me.” I collapsed on the little stool they provided and proceeded to peel them off. I checked the tag and looked for a bigger size in the pile we’d accumulated as we’d gone around the store. Three pairs later, I found one that didn’t require the Jaws of Life to get into or out of. I slipped on one of the tops Ian had selected to go with it and pushed open the curtain.
“Finally! With all the grunting going on in there, I thought you were doing calisthenics, instead of trying on clothing.” I glared at him as he spun his finger in a circle, but proceeded to turn around so he’d get the full view. “What a fine as …” he choked off the word before completing it as I held up a finger indicating my number one rule of no swearing.
“Arse?” An unimpressed shake of my head had him changing his choice.
“Bum?”
“Buttocks?”
“Rear?”
“Rump?”
“Tush!” he ended with a victorious smile. His list managed to make me smile, even as I shook my head in exasperation.
“You don’t need to comment on how my butt looks!” I tempered my words with a sideways glance as I said, “Thank you, though.”
“Well, it is, love,” he said with an unrepentant wink. I gazed at myself in the mirror, frowning unhappily. “What’s wrong, love? You fill those jeans out nicely, if I say so myself.”
His compliment eased my frown, but didn’t erase it completely. I didn’t want to admit the true issue as I studied myself wearing jeans for the first time. The freedom of movement was intoxicating, and I could admit I liked the way they looked as well, but it didn’t change one fact.
“Tell me. You have this little furrow between your brows, which tells me you’re thinking awfully hard about something. If you tell me what it is, then I can fix it.” Ian’s certainty at his ability to fix my problem had a genuine smile forming. I leaned back against the wall opposite to him as I admitted the problem.
“They’re uncomfortable.”
He gave me a blank stare, and I waved my hands becoming more animated as I explained.
“They’re tight, and they squeeze. The button digs into my stomach, and it feels like they’re crawling up my butt,” I told him in a rush, not even the slightest bit embarrassed at mentioning my butt. They were not at all what I imagined, and the disappointment made me want to cry.
His lips twitched before turning into a full-blown grin.
“It’s not funny,” I wailed, sliding down the wall.
“Actually, it is, Jane, but never fear. I will sort it out. Now, try on those slacks. You’ll find them more comfortable I’m certain, since they won’t hug those luscious curves of yours.” My mouth dropped open, but he just tugged the curtain closed on me. I did as he asked and he was right, they were more comfortable and flattering, even though they didn’t ‘hug my curves’ as he put it.
His distinctive voice filtered through the curtain a moment later. “Are you decent in there?” My affirmative answer was drowned out by the clack of the hooks as he pushed the curtain open.
“Glad to see you waited for my response,” I told him tartly, to which he only winked.
“Now, try these. I think you’ll like both.” He shoved some black pants at me, along with another pair of jeans. I took them cautiously, but he did have a tendency to be right. I pulled the curtain closed on
him and started with the black pants first. A minute later, I ducked around the curtain, too impatient to open it, and threw my arms around him.
“They’re wonderful!”
He caught me with a startled laugh, keeping us both upright as my sudden action put us off balance. He held me back from him to check out what I was wearing and grinned.
“Yes, I thought those would be your favorite.” I twisted my hips, the pants so comfortable it was like wearing nothing at all.
“What are they? I love them. Can I wear them all the time? Do they have more?”
He chuckled and told me to slow down.
“They’re yoga pants and extremely popular. You can wear them anytime you like around me, but I assure you Michael will frown upon them as proper dinner attire.”
I gave him an ‘are you kidding me’ look as I said, “I wore your pajama pants to dinner last night.”
“Extraordinary circumstances. And yes, they have more.” I bounced in excitement at the thought, disregarding Michael’s archaic dress code for the moment. “Now, try on the jeans.”
I groaned at the thought of removing the stretchy pants I had on for another pair of tight pants, but he lifted his eyebrow as he made a shooing motion. I slipped back around the curtain to try them and found them surprisingly comfy. They weren’t the yoga pants, but still better than the previous rejects. These were looser and, as I bent over, I could feel them stretch slightly. I pulled the curtain back to show him, and he nodded in approval.
“Better?”
“Much.”
“Very good. One pair of jeans should be enough. New Orleans in summer is as hot as Hades.” A quick grin as he swapped hell for Hades had me rolling my eyes at his constant need to push boundaries. “We can get more yoga pants and a few sundresses. I think you’ll find them much more to your liking.” He pointed to a navy sheath dress hanging on the wall. “Try that on, while I see if I can find any more like it. You’ll need them for our nightly dinners.”
Charming Jane_A Reverse Harem Romance Page 8
