Charming Jane_A Reverse Harem Romance

by Kristin Coley

  The dress was modest with a high neckline and the hem came below the knee, while the sleeves had a flirty cutout by the shoulder that I liked. I changed into a bold print skirt I’d been drawn too, but when I pulled it on I noticed the hem was a little short. Ian cleared his throat on the other side of the curtain then, so I opened it to get his opinion.

  “What do you think? It’s a little short, isn’t it?” I tugged on it to see if it would go down any, but the skirt was a flowy, fluffy thing and my action did nothing.

  “Scandalous,” he replied with a completely deadpan expression, crushing my hope. His lips puckered as he ran his eye down the length, and he shook his head. “What would your mother say if she saw you flouncing around in that?”

  I moaned at his question and said, “I knew it. It’s too short. But it’s so pretty!” I peeked down at the bright pink flowers splashed on the material giving it a summer vibe that I loved. He chuckled at my tortured expression.

  “It’s fine. It’s barely an inch above your knee,” he placated, leaning against the side of the dressing room, his arms full of more dresses.

  “Two inches, let’s be honest here,” I admitted, eyeing the length in the mirror.

  “Ah, two inches. We are indecent now,” he drawled before saying, “It still falls into the perfectly respectable range, love. However, I should really refuse to let you wear it.”

  “You … refuse to let me? And why?” I’d caught the teasing note in his voice when he’d said refuse, so I wasn’t upset, but I did want to know why.

  “Walking around in that skirt, all the other gentleman will be able to see what amazing legs you have. I’d be fighting them off constantly as they vie for your attention.” His lips curved upwards, deepening the dimple in his cheek, as I fought off my curiosity at what his full lips would feel like pressed against mine. I shook my head to clear the sudden desire away, already feeling a flush work its way up my cheeks at his compliment.

  “Get the skirt. How did the dress fit? I found a couple more that will work for dinner. And how do you feel about shorts?”

  “Now, who’s scandalous?” I teased, picking though the options he’d brought. One was a horrible chartreuse and I shook my head, tossing it onto the rejects without even trying it.

  “It wasn’t that bad,” Ian said with a disgruntled sigh. I eyed him to see if he was serious, but the hint of a smile gave him away. I hung the rest of the dresses he brought with disbelief.

  “Will I really need this many?” I asked, gesturing to the other skirts and casual tops I had collected. “Won’t any of those do for dinner? Do I really need to wear those?” The dresses he’d brought weren’t formal, per se, but definitely more professional in nature.

  “You weren’t far off the mark when you called Michael arrogant, as much as he despises the implication. He believes there is a certain standard for dress at the dinner table, a habit formed by our parents and one I honor out of respect for him.” He shrugged carelessly, not meeting my eyes, and I realized it mattered to him as well. He did it for Michael, yes, but there was more to it than that.

  “It was just your parents?” I questioned, turning away to straighten the clothes piled around us, but listening carefully for his answer.

  “Our grandparents were also big on formal dinners. They felt a family should sit down together and discuss the day’s activities, current events and such.” There was a hint of pain in his voice as he spoke of them, making me suspect they were no longer here.

  “And you enjoyed the dinners with them?” I prodded for answers, feeling his family was a big part of why Ian was how he was.

  “Yes, I did. They made time for us, something my parents couldn’t be bothered to do.” He straightened up, meeting my eyes. “And before you ask, they died when I was twelve. Michael cherishes the memories of those dinners by continuing them. I respect his wishes.”

  I held up a black cocktail dress and replied simply, “Then so will I.”

  A quick thought had me amending my statement. “However, lunch is another matter entirely, and I will watch Michael eat with his hands.”

  Ian laughed at my proclamation, but his gaze was thoughtful as he replied, “And I will glory in your success.”

  An hour later, we left the store with piles of bags, which we dumped in Ian’s trunk. He’d talked me into a couple pairs of shorts, and I was wearing the flowered skirt I’d fallen in love with. I’d folded his borrowed clothes into a bag with the other purchases, undecided if I was going to give them back. They were comfortable, after all.

  He held the car door for me, and I slid in, cognizant of the unusual shortness of my skirt. He gave a wolf whistle as I tucked my legs in, and I shot him a sharp look. He laughed and shut the door on my frown. After he’d started the car, he turned to ask, “Where to next, Jane?”

  “I could use a snack,” I said hopefully, the morning’s shopping spree having left me famished. He chuckled and pulled into the ever-present traffic.

  “I think I can solve that.”

  A few minutes later, he had wedged the car into the tiniest parallel parking space I’d ever seen and come around to my door. He assisted me from the car and as he did, I smelled the delicious scent of fried pastry.

  “What is that?” I asked him with a deep inhale that made my stomach rumble in pleasure.

  “That is beignets and café au lait. A New Orleans staple,” he replied with a cheeky grin, as we walked to an open-air café. The dark green awning spelled out Café du Monde, and I sighed happily.

  The man at the counter asked what we wanted and after a quick look at me, he told the man, “Two orders of beignets, a café au lait, and a milk.” He paid him and tugged me toward one of tables. “It’s still nice out. Hasn’t gotten miserably hot yet.”

  “Do you come here often then?” I asked curiously, wondering what exactly Michael and Ian did. I knew Michael had a business and Ian liked to party, but that was the extent of it.

  “Not as often as I’d like. This city has a vibrancy unlike any other I’ve seen, and trust me I’ve seen a few. But New Orleans is special. I’ve come here to party more than anything, but occasionally Michael passes through on business. This will be the longest trip, though. Michael is in the process of acquiring a manufacturing company based out of here. He works for the family business. They acquire failing businesses and dismantle them for the parts.” I caught a hint of his distaste for it and was surprised Michael didn’t also object to the career choice.

  “That doesn’t sound very nice. Why does Michael do it?” I questioned, and Ian grimaced.

  “Make no mistake. Sometimes, dismantling the company is the only option and a kindness at that, but I believe many of them could be saved, turned around and made successful again. I’ve told Michael this, and he agrees.”

  “But?”

  “Our parents do not, and they make the decisions, since Father is the CEO and Mother sits on the Board. Michael insists on staying with them, and so he dismantles perfectly good companies.”

  “People lose their jobs when that happens, don’t they?”

  He nodded. “It’s not an easy or pleasant job, but Michael manages to do it while allowing them to retain what little dignity they have left. More than I can say for Father.”

  I lifted my eyebrow in question and Ian answered.

  “Father gloated. He believed he was conquering them, instead of the truth. He was nothing more than a vulture eating the scraps of a once noble thing.”

  Our food was set before us then, and at the sight of the golden dough lightly dusted with powdered sugar, I forgot what we were discussing. I picked one up, marveling at how light it was and took a bite. Powdered sugar went everywhere, and I discovered there was nothing but air inside of the pastry.

  “It’s delicious.” I told him, licking the powdered sugar off my lips.

  “Yes, delicious,” he echoed, eyeing me as if I was the snack. He pushed his plate toward me as I finished off my second beignet. They g
ave us each three, but they were so light and sweet, I could have eaten a dozen. The ringing of his phone interrupted us and as he glanced at the screen, he smiled delightedly.

  “Michael! It’s so good to hear your dulcet tones again. What has you calling?”

  He tilted the phone away from his mouth and told me, “He’s checking on us.” He moved the phone back and continued, “Brother, we’ve been shopping, and now we’re at Café du Monde. Care to join us?”

  “He’s too busy to join us,” Ian said with a nod, giving me Michael’s portion of the conversation as they spoke. I nodded since my mouth was full of Ian’s beignets.

  “We didn’t go to any of the places on the list the concierge gave us. I tried, but Jane was quite insistent we go elsewhere. Turns out she’s quite thrifty and looks at price tags.” He paused, listening. “Yes, they actually did have price tags at one little boutique we went too. The first place was rather too snobby for our taste. They didn’t want to even look at Jane.” A few minutes of listening and Ian tilted his head toward me.

  “Jane, love, Michael would like to know if you want him to purchase the first store we went to and fire the rude sales lady?” I blinked at the utter sincerity on his face as he asked me the question.

  “Um, no?”

  “Jane said no. Granted, it didn’t sound like a forceful no, so she might be persuaded otherwise.”

  “No!” I waved at him frantically, paying closer attention now as the lady’s job seemed in imminent danger. I hadn’t cared for her, but I also didn’t want to see her fired, and at this point I wasn’t sure Michael wouldn’t have the entire store closed down.

  “Oh, no. She’s giving me a forceful no now. In fact, she seems quite flustered about it. It appears our Jane has a soft heart.” Ian smiled at me, waving his hand to the beignets forgotten on the table. “Go back to your snack, love. Michael has been called off.”

  I sat back with a sigh, shaking my head as I crammed the last beignet in my mouth. I sipped the café au lait he’d ordered, but didn’t care for the taste and drank the milk instead.

  “I’ve learned so many new things today, brother. Did you know there is a place called Wal-Mart and you can buy clothes there, groceries, and get your oil changed? Jane told me all about it.” He listened and then told me, “Michael doesn’t believe you either.”

  I groaned, throwing up my arms in exasperation.

  “She seems quite frustrated with our lack of knowledge. We’ll have to remedy this. I’ll have Jane escort me to one of these Wal-Marts as part of our summer activities and report back to you.” He paused and then gave a wicked smile. “We bought all of her clothes at a secondhand store. And yes, it’s exactly what it sounds like.” Ian held the phone from his ear as Michael’s voice blasted through it, startling me when I heard it across the table.

  “He’s taking it much better than I would have thought,” Ian said with a pleasant nod as he put the phone back to his ear.

  “She insisted, brother, so what was I to do? Tell her she couldn’t buy her clothes where she wanted? They’re quite lovely, and we found a perfect dress for this evening’s dinner.” Ian frowned as Michael continued. “I am not in the habit of handling anyone, and most certainly not Jane. She wished to shop at the thrift store where she was more comfortable.” He stressed the word comfortable, confusing me, but suddenly relaxed back into his chair, the momentary tension gone as he smiled. “Quite right. Jane was hungry, so we stopped, but we still need to purchase undergarments and such. I haven’t made reservations yet. I wanted to get Jane’s opinion.” He paused. “No, where is Buster?” Another pause. “Then it’ll be another day. And the other matter?” He took a deep breath. “So be it, then. Patience shall see our reward.”

  He hung up the phone, and I stared at him curiously, the last part of his conversation confusing me. He gave me a lazy smile and gestured to the table. “Would you like another order?”

  I shook my head, my eyebrow raised expectantly. It sounded as if Michael had been upset I’d gotten my way, and it concerned me. Ian seemed to sense my worry and reached across the table, enfolding my hand in his.

  “Michael only wants the best for you, and quite often that means doing things his way. He finds it difficult to understand your stubborn need to do things your way, such as shopping at a thrift store when money is no object. He respects your wishes, but you confound him. I admit you confound me as well, but I’m more flexible than Michael. I find you a breath of fresh air in a world gone very stale.” He squeezed my hand gently, sending a current of warmth through me. “I’m glad you’re here, and I do believe you will be good for us.”

  I nodded, accepting his explanation. I’d noticed Michael was uptight, and hadn’t been kidding when I called him arrogant. If I was to stay the entire summer, then I was going to have to loosen him up a bit.

  “He also demanded all the clothes we purchased be sent out for cleaning before you wore them.” He wiggled his pinky finger at my skirt. “We won’t mention this outfit.” I laughed at his sanitary request, but nodded in agreement. If it would make Michael happy, I could do that little thing he asked, or demanded actually. No need to tell him I’d already planned to do it. Mom had engrained cleanliness was next to godliness long before Michael Wright showed up in my life.

  “So, what does Buster do?” I asked, as we left Café du Monde, our hands still entwined. I considered tugging it loose, but the sensation of my hand in his was too nice.

  “He’s our driver, bodyguard, man about town. Whatever we need, Buster manages to procure.” I eyed him speculatively, but he didn’t expound on what he ‘procured’ for them. “Michael wanted me to introduce you, so you’d be familiar with him. He lives with us if you hadn’t realized by his arrival this morning. If there’s an occasion when one of us can’t be with you, Buster will escort you.” I opened my mouth to protest the idea that I needed an escort, and Ian quickly went on. “He’s a master of self-defense. Michael and I practice with him often. I think you’d enjoy the opportunity as well.”

  I eyed him narrowly, recognizing a subject change when I heard one, but excitement coursed through me at the prospect of learning more self-defense and having a chance to practice it. I had three sparring partners available to me now.

  “Are you willing to practice with me as well?” I asked, allowing the subject change.

  “Will you wear those yoga pants when you practice?” he asked, giving me an exaggerated leer. I laughed as I used our joined hands to push him back.

  “Maybe,” I answered coyly, before quickly admitting, “Probably.” There were super comfortable after all, and yoga pants, workout pants, same thing.

  “Then, definitely,” he replied with a smirk, swinging our hands casually. After we’d gone a block, he stopped in front of a store. I glimpsed inside and promptly turned my head, feeling my cheeks flush.

  “Oh,” I managed awkwardly at the sight of the lingerie displayed inside.

  “A promise is a promise, Jane.” He turned my face toward him, tilting his head to peer into my eyes. He decided to take pity on me with a soft smile. “I will go across the street there and wait for you.” He pointed to a little sports bar where I could see TVs blaring multiple sports channels. “You get what you need, and I trust you will purchase everything you need. No nonsense about making do, love. Remember your wash goes out with ours.” If it was possible, my cheeks flamed even hotter at the mention of our combined laundry. It was ridiculous that I was so embarrassed, but it was Ian. I doubted I’d be this embarrassed at discussing lingerie with Michael. He’d be so businesslike about it; I wouldn’t have a chance to even think about what I was purchasing. I also had no doubt he’d escort me inside to sit and wait.

  A black credit card appeared in front of me.

  “No arguments. Buy what you need, hell whatever you want.” My quick glare had him apologizing. “Forgive my language, love. But I am serious. Buy what you want, what you love, and don’t worry about it. Your things were taken fr
om you through no fault of your own and we only wish to see you regain what you lost.” His expression was so serious and intent I found myself nodding as I accepted the card. He turned toward the door, but before he walked off, he leaned down and with the faintest whisper against my cheek added, “The pink, definitely the pink one.”

  He was striding across the street by the time I managed to move, but when I looked into the store, I immediately knew what he meant. I gripped the card and marched inside determinedly.

  It took me an hour to decide on everything, even though I’d intended to be quick. When she rang it all up I blanched at the total, but remembering what Ian had said I handed the card over, the red imprint of it etched into my skin where I’d clutched it.

  Two rather small bags later, I walked out, incredulous at how much it had cost to fill bags no bigger than my purse. Ian must have been keeping watch, because he met me on the sidewalk outside the bar. I leaned up and sniffed him to his amusement.

  “Do I smell good?” he asked, taking the bags from my hand.

  “You do,” I answered, the lack of alcohol on his breath surprising me.

  “It’s barely noon, Jane. I’m not an alcoholic despite what Michael may have implied. And one beer would not have made me drunk.” He raised his hands to stall my next comment. “Not that I had a drink at all. I ate some chili cheese fries with a soda.”

  “Oh,” I answered, dejected.

  “What is it?” he asked solicitously, taking my elbow as we walked across the street.

  “Where’s my chili fries?”

  He blinked as he met my eyes, unable to answer. “Nothing I say is going to come out right, so I’ll just not answer.”

  He tucked me into the car and glanced over at me, “Where to now, love?”

  I laughed, amused at the realization that I had my own chauffeur.

  “Back to the hotel, James! If Michael wants everything cleaned before I wear it, we’ll need to get to it. At least if I want something to wear tonight.”