Charming Jane_A Reverse Harem Romance

by Kristin Coley

“James?” he questioned as we drove.

  “Driving Miss Daisy. Iconic film.” I glanced at him. “You’ve never seen it have you?”

  “Can’t say as I have.”

  “It’s old, but one of my mom’s favorites, so I’ve seen it a few times. This old lady had a chauffeur named James.”

  “Ah, and I’m your chauffeur, but you’re anything but old, Jane.”

  “Maybe not compared to you,” I joked, not having any idea how old Ian was. I didn’t think he was too much older than me. Michael definitely was, by attitude if nothing else.

  “And how old do you think I am?” he asked in mock outrage. I shrugged and said, “Early twenties?”

  He gave an easy laugh. “Spot on. Twenty-two and Michael is twenty-six, if you’re curious. And you are eighteen, correct? Or do I need to hire a chaperone?”

  I giggled at the idea of hiring a chaperone for the babysitter.

  “I’m almost nineteen actually. Since we mainly homeschooled, I started high school a year later than most.”

  “Really? So you have a birthday coming up?”

  “Yep, in August.”

  “Michael will be pleased. He does love a birthday bash.”

  “Michael? Seriously?”

  He laughed at my surprise. “Yes, Michael is many things, but he does traditional with gusto. Birthdays are a prime example.” He proceeded to regale me with stories of over-the-top birthday parties that went back to when they were children. “We’ve never missed a birthday. We make it a point to always celebrate them together.”

  “I like that tradition,” I answered, brushing my fingers against his forearm. He glanced down at my fingers, and I quickly removed them, flushing at my own forwardness. He reached over and threaded his fingers though mine before returning his attention to the road.

  We rode in an easy silence. Ian’s concentration remained on the heavy traffic as we inched back to the hotel. He didn’t release my fingers, and I had no desire to remove my hand from his.

  “Are you happy with your clothing purchases?” he asked as he braked to let someone in.

  “I am.” I grinned happily. “Now, just don’t throw me out of the car and peel off with them still in the trunk.” I laughed, knowing he never would, but felt his fingers tighten around mine. A peek over at him revealed a tense jaw, but it eased as he seemed to feel my gaze. He managed a tight smile for my benefit, but apparently didn’t find my joke as amusing as I did. “I shouldn’t have …”

  “No,” he protested as he squeezed my hand. “It’s fine. You didn’t do anything wrong. In fact, it stuns me how well you handle everything. I can’t seem to manage it nearly as well as you, and it didn’t even happen to me.” He broke off with a disgusted shake of his head. “I just can’t fathom how people could do such a thing, especially to one such as yourself.” Before I could reply, he continued. “No matter. They’ll pay for their sins.”

  We pulled in front of the hotel at that exact moment and the valet opened my door, preventing me from asking what he meant. A flurry of activity and Ian was loaded down with bags, shaking his head when a bellhop offered to take them. We went back to the suite where he proceeded to dump all of our purchases on the bed.

  “Any chance you’ll model your most recent purchases for me?” he asked with an uplifted brow and a wicked smile, the tiny pink bags holding my new lingerie dangling from his fingertips. I snatched them away with an emphatic “No!” to his amusement.

  “Do you have a preference for dinner? I need to make a reservation. We have Italian, French, Creole, American, really anything you like,” he asked, thumbing through his phone as he rattled off options. “We haven’t been here long, but I will say the food is nothing, if not spectacular. They pride themselves on it.”

  “Sounds like my kind of place. I really don’t care where we eat. Pick Michael’s favorite for tonight. I’ll save the pizza and hot dogs for the weekend,” I told him as I pulled items from bags. “Do I really need to have everything cleaned?” I asked with a sigh, looking at the mound of clothes.

  “Yes, Michael is a stickler. You should probably change and have those cleaned as well,” he said, indicating my new skirt. I nodded and shut the door in his face. I pulled it open just as quickly to his surprise. “Yes?”

  “Who cleans it? Is there a laundromat?”

  “I’m not sure what a laundromat is, but I’ll have someone from the hotel come get the clothes. They’ll have them cleaned and brought back.”

  I nodded, muttering, “Of course,” as I shut the door again.

  Chapter Six

  A few mornings later, I wandered out of my room, and paused mid-yawn at the sight of the giant man standing by the table. It took a second for my mind to catch up as I stared at him. I thought I’d exaggerated how big he was, but apparently not. He was laughing with Ian, so I took a moment to admire the way his crossed arms strained the already tight shirt he wore. He would fit right in with Vin Diesel and the Rock, I thought.

  “Jane, you’re awake. You remember Buster?” Ian caroled as I padded over, still wearing his pajamas. All of the clothes we’d bought and I’d neglected to buy a pair of pajamas of my own. The lingerie shop had sold a line of nighties, but there was absolutely no way I’d parade around in anything that skimpy around these guys. My momma might disagree, but she didn’t raise a fool.

  “Vaguely,” I replied, noticing how carefully he studied me in my borrowed pajamas. I knew Buster stayed in the suite but this was the first time since we’d met that he’d made an appearance when I was around.

  “You are a bonny lass,” he said grudgingly, and I felt my eyes widen at the compliment. Buster frowned at me and I shifted, curling my bare toes into the carpet. His direct stare was disconcerting to say the least, even though nothing should come as a surprise to me considering my life since arriving in New Orleans. I tilted my chin up as he asked, “How’s the babysitting going?”

  Ian glanced between us in amusement as I matched Buster’ glare with one of my own. “Fantastic,” I muttered, scooting around him to get to the table where breakfast waited for me.

  “Michael hasn’t shut up about you. Figured I’d better make sure you weren’t a gold digger,” he continued his voice hard. I stared at him in shock not sure what was more shocking, that he thought I could be a gold digger or that Michael actually talked about me. It was hard to believe Michael discussed me with Buster or with anyone honestly. We’d eaten dinner together each night, but Michael was always too busy to join us when we explored the city during the day.

  Ian willingly went along as I embraced being a tourist of the city, following me to the Audubon Zoo and aquarium and riding the streetcar. We planned to tour the Ursuline Convent today, but Michael had refused, citing business. I speculated he was frightened I’d make him eat a hot dog with his bare hands, but once Ian stopped laughing, he assured me Michael was a workaholic and not avoiding me intentionally. Even so, if was odd to think he spoke of me with the man in front of me.

  “Is your name really Buster?” The question spilled out before I could catch myself. I’d been wondering about it since Ian had told me about him. A deep laugh erupted from him, and Ian smiled as he settled himself on the sofa.

  “No, it’s actually James McTavish, but I’ve been known as Buster so long I’m not sure I’d answer to anything else,” he finally said with a grin, seeming to accept my presence finally.

  “How did you get a nickname like that?” I curled up on the sofa by Ian, setting a scone on my plate along with clotted cream and lemon curd. He’d introduced me to English tea one afternoon and I’d fallen in love. Scones had magically begun appearing as a breakfast item after that, to my delight.

  “He’s well known for busting heads,” Ian murmured in my ear. A sideways glance at Buster, and I had no doubt he spoke the truth.

  “It’s a good enough explanation for my name as any. I’ve spent my whole life busting things and somewhere along the way, Buster is what I came to be known as.�
�� He sat down gingerly on the chair across from us. I held my breath, but the chair held his weight.

  “I hear you want to practice self-defense moves?” he questioned to my surprise. He recognized my look and chuckled. “I wasn’t kidding about Michael nattering on about you. You seem to have impressed him.” He gestured to Ian then, who returned an unassuming smile as he said, “And him, hasn’t shut up about you, either.”

  “Yes, and I was telling him the two of you could practice this afternoon. Michael requested my assistance with some business, and it would have left you all alone, but then Buster cleared his schedule and solved our problem,” Ian said with satisfaction, trading a quick glance with Buster.

  “I can stay by myself,” I replied, frowning.

  “You could, but you seem to be a magnet for trouble, and this is two birds with one stone. You learn more self-defense, which will only serve to help you when you inevitably find trouble once again. And I will feel much better about leaving you.” There was no mistaking the satisfaction in his voice, but before I could argue, Buster intervened.

  “It will be my pleasure to show you some moves. A couple this one knows nothing about.” He winked at me, and I grinned as Ian said, “Wait a minute.”

  “In that case, I’d love to spend the afternoon with you, Buster.” Ian frowned at my capitulation, but what he’d said was true. I did want to learn how to better defend myself, and if I also learned a move or two I could use when sparring with Ian, then all the better.

  “Are we still going this morning?” I asked Ian, trying to hide my disappointment at the thought we wouldn’t be spending the day together.

  “Of course, love. I wouldn’t miss it for the world, but I daresay I should warn you there is a high probability of lightening striking the church when I enter.” I popped the last of the scone in my mouth and told him, “I’m willing to risk it.” I nodded at Buster and glanced at Ian as I stood. “I’m going to get dressed. I don’t want to miss the morning tour. They say the sunlight coming through the stained-glass windows is gorgeous.” He waved a dismissive hand toward me. “Go then, I’ll be ready when you are.”

  “Nice to see you again, Buster!” I called over my shoulder, to which he replied, “Likewise.”

  After our tour ended, and I was finished oohing and ahhing over the stained-glass windows, Ian escorted me to Jackson Square.

  “Michael is going to meet us, along with Buster. You’ll go with Buster to the hotel and train, while I attend to business with Michael.”

  “What kind of business?” I asked suspiciously. This was the first I’d seen of Ian conducting any type of business with Michael. So far, it seemed like Ian was there only so Michael could keep an eye on him, and now I was there to do that for him, so why Ian needed to go with Michael was questionable.

  “A meeting. Occasionally I come in handy as a persuasive bloke for Michael. He can be a bit uptight if you hadn’t noticed.”

  “Hmmm,” I nodded, not asking anymore questions, but had every intention of revisiting the matter at a later time. The brothers hadn’t given me the impression of being secretive, but something about today’s business aroused my suspicions. “Is he joining us for lunch?”

  “I don’t know. Depends if he’s eaten yet. What did you have in mind?” Ian asked as we walked. I pointed to a truck across the street and he laughed. “You are determined, aren’t you?”

  I nodded happily, as a car pulled up to a stop next to us, and Michael stepped out.

  “Dare I ask what has you both so amused?” Michael drawled buttoning his jacket he came to stand next to us.

  “Lunch. You haven’t eaten, have you?” I piped up before Ian could, having already figured out Michael tended to lean toward giving me what I wanted.

  “No, actually I haven’t.”

  I clapped my hands, my eyes flashing as I looped my arm through Michael’s and glanced back at Ian. “Perfect. I have just the place in mind.”

  “Do you now?”

  “Oh, you’ll love it, brother. Right up your alley.” Ian said, clapping him on the back as I dragged them across the square to the food truck serving boudin pies.

  “You will insist on seeing me eat with my hands, won’t you?” Michael asked with a defeated sigh.

  “Yes, and perhaps you can even remove your coat. It is, after all, ninety degrees out here,” I added, imagining how hot his suit had to be. After a couple of days wandering around in the heat with pants and long skirts, I’d abandoned them for cooler attire. My top was lightweight cotton, and I was wearing a pair of the shorts Ian had convinced me to get. They went to the knee, but felt more freeing than my traditional skirts.

  “Let’s not be hasty,” he replied drily, scanning the chalkboard menu in front of us. “I assume I am to purchase an item that I hold to eat?”

  “I think they’re all like that,” I answered to his obvious dismay.

  “Cheer up, brother. There’s no one around to witness your disgrace,” Ian told him with a wave of his arm.

  I stepped up to the window and asked the man for five boudin pies. I’d learned we all had healthy appetites. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught sight of Buster walking toward us.

  “Make that ten pies, please.” The guy raised his eyebrow, but nodded, and I stepped back as Buster joined us.

  “I ordered some for you too,” I told him, to his surprised amusement.

  “Did you? And what are we having?”

  “Boudin pies,” Ian replied, and Buster glanced at Michael. “Yes, he will be forced to eat one with his hands.”

  Buster nodded, eyeing me as I bounced on my heels excitedly. I’d never had boudin before, but it sounded delicious. What wasn’t to love about spiced meat and rice stuffed inside of pie dough and fried?

  “Order up!”

  Ian walked over with me and paid the man as I collected our pies. They were piping hot, and I juggled them carefully, eager to taste one. Ian took some off my hands as we walked back to the other two guys.

  Michael took the pie Ian handed him with a grimace. Buster held three in one hand and a fourth in his other hand, but hesitated before taking a bite. We all looked toward Michael, whose harassed expression would have been amusing if I wasn’t so ready to try my own.

  “For the love of God,” he declared, and brought the meat pie to his mouth and took a bite. Buster gave a surprised laugh and Ian nodded, impressed. I dove into my own boudin, the spicy meat filling delicious as the flavors exploded in my mouth.

  “Are you satisfied now?” Michael asked curtly, finishing the pie in a few efficient bites. I handed him another one with a smile as I said, “For now.” Buster choked on his fourth boudin pie as Ian laughed, clapping his brother on his back.

  “I do believe she’ll succeed in loosening the stick up your ass yet.”

  “Ian!” I threw an exasperated glare at him and he mouthed, “Sorry, love.”

  We finished off our lunch and headed back to the car. Ian drew me toward him in a sideways hug, and I wrapped my arms around his waist tightly, unaccountably sad to see him leave.

  “I’ll see you soon,” he whispered, placing a kiss underneath my ear and causing my pulse to pound erratically. I stepped back carefully, feeling unsteady from the intensity of his stare.

  Michael cupped my elbow, turning me to face him, and doing nothing to calm me as my skin tingled where his hand rested.

  “You’ll be alright with Buster?”

  I took a breath, gathering myself and nodded.

  “He’s going to teach me moves y’all don’t know about,” I answered, the thought cheering me up immensely. Michael’s eyebrow arched as he glanced at Buster.

  “Oh, is he?” He smiled at me. “Well then, I can’t wait to see what you learn.”

  “When will you be back?” I asked, glancing between the brothers.

  “A couple hours, at most,” Michael replied offhandedly. Ian gave me a reassuring smile.

  “This business shouldn’t take long, Jane. Use
the time to decide where we’ll have dinner. More finger foods, perhaps.”

  “Ah, yes, that would be lovely,” Michael commented deprecatingly. “Your car or mine, Ian?”

  “Yours,” he answered handing his keys to Buster. “Keep her safe.” His eyes flickered to mine. “And I’m not talking about the car.”

  “Didn’t think you were, mate,” Buster replied, taking the keys as he gallantly offered me his arm. “Now, then, lassie, ‘tis much we need to get accomplished before these two louts come back from their business.”

  An hour later, I was pinned to the ground with Buster braced above me. I took a second to be grateful he supported his weight; otherwise, he would crush me.

  “You did good,” Buster said encouragingly as I groaned. He chuckled and his warm breath washed over my face, reminding me how close we were in this position. I tensed and he hurried to shift off me. “Want to try again?”

  I closed my eyes to give myself a second since the idea of him grabbing me again was sending a totally different kind of shiver through me. That made three guys who made me tingle and I was starting to panic. I had what could be considered a sheltered childhood, and having the hots for three guys at the same time was a new one for me. It definitely didn’t help that Buster had taken off his shirt and only had loose workout pants hanging low on his hips.

  I’d almost swallowed my tongue when I’d turned around to see him bare chested. He had a light smattering of golden red hair on his chest that trailed down until it disappeared beneath his waistband. Thankfully, he hadn’t noticed my staring, but there was no denying he’d taken my breath away. His skin was milk white except for the freckles that seemed to cover most of him, but it was his sheer mass that was distracting. I’d never seen someone built like him. He clearly worked hard for his physique but I’d never seen someone in real life who looked like him. Every muscle was sculpted and defined with no excess fat to be found. It was actually difficult not to stare.

  “Alright, let’s do this,” I groaned, needing to distract myself as I got to my feet to go again.