Charming Jane_A Reverse Harem Romance

by Kristin Coley

  “More than likely,” Michael admitted with a puckered brow.

  “And do you think he’s okay with it?” I demanded with a frown. “That his brother is warning me of his problems? Problems I’ve yet to witness?” I met his eyes. “Does it ever occur to you that maybe this is part of said problem?”

  “You’re quite right. The past is not necessarily indicative of the future, and I’ve seen him with you. The way he acts around you is quite refreshing.” He paused for a moment. “I love my brother dearly. I only seek to protect him.”

  “Then perhaps you should take better care with his feelings,” I replied, my own candor surprising me. “You see him as a troublemaker, a playboy, a man callous and dismissive of women. And I have no doubt he’s acted in ways that you have every right to believe it of him. Perhaps you even believe it means he has no feeling. But you’re wrong. He feels so deeply that he buries the emotions for fear they will overwhelm him. The attitude you describe is nothing more than a front. Remember that the next time you seek to judge him.”

  He appeared abashed at my reprimand, and I glanced down at the table ashamed at my outburst.

  “It’s my turn to ask forgiveness,” I whispered softly as his eyes narrowed on me curiously. “I sit here and tell you how to treat your brother, but I haven’t lived with him as you have. I don’t see him the same way you do, but that doesn’t mean you don’t have good reason for your caution. Thank you for the warning. I will consider it.”

  “Perhaps we both need to reflect on the words spoken today. You’ve opened my eyes, and I thank you for that.” He gestured to the covered tray. “If I’m not mistaken I do believe I heard your stomach rumble as you sat down. Shall we eat?”

  “Yes,” I answered eagerly, scooping up an omelet. “So, why aren’t you eating dinner with us?” A faint flush appeared on his cheeks, intensifying my curiosity. “Michael, do you have a date?” I couldn’t help the shock that colored my words or the sudden spurt of jealousy I felt at the thought of Michael having dinner with another woman.

  “Dinner with a business associate,” he responded repressively.

  “A female associate?” I persisted, knowing I was right when the rosy color in his cheeks deepened. I wrestled with an unexpected sense of possessiveness where Michael was concerned and forced a laugh. “Try to relax. Actually, you know what? Be yourself. Any woman would be lucky to have you.”

  “Well, thank you. I think,” he answered dryly. “But I assure you, it is purely professional; a new employee of the company. My parents sent her here to observe the process I use.”

  “Mmhmm.” He smirked and flicked his fingers at my plate. “Eat. I hear you have a big day ahead of you.” My forehead wrinkled, and his smile widened. “Ian said you planned to tour the WWII museum today. A compromise, I believe?” I groaned as I remembered. I had promised him I would go to the WWII museum, if he’d go to the convent with me. Michael laughed as I poked at my food, suddenly disinterested. “I take it that was his wish from your lack of enthusiasm.”

  “I thought we’d go on a cemetery tour today.” I answered, forlorn at the unexpected change in my plans.

  “It is supposed to rain today, so perhaps the museum is a better option,” he told me, in an attempt to cheer me. “You know, I’ve never explored the city’s cemeteries.” I looked up at him wondering where this was going. “Perhaps we can go together this weekend. Ian mentioned you enjoyed the beignets at Café du Monde. We could stop there as well. You can witness me eat them with my fingers.”

  A wide smile crossed my face at the thought, and he replied with a knowing smile of his own. “I had a feeling that would have those dimples flashing again.” He scooted back from the table and stood. “I need to go. I’m unbearably late.”

  “It was worth it,” I called out after him. He paused at the door, turning back toward me with a curious lift of his lips, he gave me a sharp nod as he acknowledged my words, and then he was gone.

  “Now that wasn’t so bad was it, love?” Ian asked me knowingly as we left the WWII museum. He took my hand and spun me around, causing me to giggle. “Admit it. You liked it.”

  “Maybe. It wasn’t so bad,” I answered as he twirled me close and draped his arm around my shoulders. “The restoration exhibit was cool and the home front section. It’s interesting to see what life was like back then.” My arm was trapped between us, and I debated whether I should tuck it around his waist. Its current position was awkward, but I wasn’t sure if I was bold enough to make the move.

  “You would have fit in perfectly back then. You ever wonder if you were born in the wrong time?” He peered down at me, and I smiled at him as I wrapped my arm around his waist.

  “Sometimes, but I know for sure Michael was.”

  He laughed loudly, startling a passerby. “You are correct about that.” He tugged me a tad closer as we strolled back to the car. “So what would you like for dinner, since Michael won’t be joining us?”

  “Room service. I feel like yoga pants and being lazy.”

  “Sounds perfect, love.”

  An hour later, I was curled up on the sofa wearing yoga pants and a t-shirt arguing over the last slice of pizza with Ian.

  “You ate most of it,” I reminded him, holding the last piece. “And possession is nine tenths of the law.” I took a quick bite, and he sprawled back on the sofa with a wide grin.

  “You have bested me.” He rested his hands on his flat stomach, his casual pose at direct odds with Michael’s normal posture. “I hope you enjoy it, while I lay here starving to death.”

  “There’s always dessert,” I told him with an expectant smile. “You know, you are vastly different from your brother. Why is that?”

  He snorted at my question and shifted over, so I could tuck my feet under me. “Because there couldn’t be two perfect children in my parents’ eyes?” I detected a note of bitterness in his voice, and hugged my knees. “I was a mistake. An accident. As I got older, I was too loud, too needy, too talkative, too much of everything for them. They wanted to know why I couldn’t be more like Michael.” He gave me a rueful smile. “By all estimations I should truly hate my brother. I’ve spent my entire life in his shadow, never quite measuring up. But he never felt that way. He always treated me with respect. He enjoys my antics, even though he will never admit it.” The idea made me smile, because I could see the truth in it. Ian was brash, bold, and confident. Not that Michael wasn’t equally confident, but he was far more reserved in his approach.

  “You and Michael are opposite sides of the same coin. You each show a different face, but you have the same worth. It’s a shame your parents couldn’t see that.” His lips compressed as emotion tightened his face.

  “You have a generous heart, love. You can see beauty where there is none.”

  “There’s beauty in everything, Ian. You just need the right eyes to see it.”

  He stared at me with such intensity I forgot to breathe, and only when he leapt to his feet was I able to take a breath.

  “I do believe ice cream is in order,” he declared, shoving his hands in the pockets of his slacks. Ian dressed more casually than Michael, but that only meant he wore expensive slacks with t-shirts instead of three piece suits. The charcoal slacks he wore paired nicely with the black graphic tee, but it was a look only Ian could pull off. “Do you wish to come with me? Or would you rather wait here while I run out and get a few pints?”

  “Pints of ice cream, right? Not beer.”

  “Well, beer would go down nicely,” he replied with a wink.

  “Chocolate ice cream.”

  “And here I would have pegged you as a vanilla girl. You are full of surprises.”

  “And you are a properly improper fellow,” I replied in my best British accent, to his delight.

  “That was actually quite good. A little work and we’ll unleash you on Michael.” I shook my head at the thought and grabbed the book I’d been reading. Ian demanded attention worse than a toddler, so
I hadn’t had much of a chance to read since I’d arrived. As the door shut behind him, I realized it’d been almost a week, and tomorrow was the first call with my parents since they’d put me on the plane.

  I stared at the opened page blankly, lost in thought, as I realized how different this summer was turning out to be from what I’d imagined. I chuckled to myself, because never in my wildest imagination would I have thought to be spending it with Ian and Michael. I’d planned to play the tourist while I was here, but having Ian as a companion was an unexpected bonus. Both of the brothers were gallant and fun to be around, but Ian had wormed his way into my heart more quickly than I ever could have expected. Sometimes I wondered if it was the wounded air he had about him, the hurt of a lost child I saw in his eyes on occasion, or maybe it was the wild zest for life, his eagerness for everything, even the seemingly mundane.

  I knew it was crazy, but I also knew I would stay. I suspected Michael was concerned I’d leave after talking to my parents, but I had no intention of leaving them, at least not until I’d explored the connection I felt with each of them. My parents had spent my entire life sheltering me, imposing their thoughts and beliefs, and it was a relief to be free from it, to have the opportunity to decide for myself what I wanted.

  After I’d read a couple chapters, I realized Ian wasn’t back. A glance at the clock revealed he’d been gone an hour. I didn’t know where he’d planned to go, but I couldn’t shake the thought that he should have been back by now. I checked my phone, but there were no missed texts or calls. I set the phone back down, trying to reassure myself he’d be back in a few moments. I even opened my book again, but after rereading the same paragraph five times, I gave up.

  I picked up the phone again, shooting him a quick text, and waited. Five minutes went by with no response, so I called him. After several rings, it went to voicemail. Maybe he lost his phone, I thought, or left it in the car while he ran into the store.

  Or he’s been in an accident and is dying, a tiny but loud part of me yelled.

  “He’s fine,” I spoke aloud, and the words echoed oddly in the empty room. I tried calling him again, and this time it went to voicemail after only a couple of rings. I left a message asking him to call me and that I was worried. By now, I was pacing and wishing Michael was there. I debated over calling him, but the memory of his flush when I teased him it was a date, stopped me. Michael deserved a bit of peace, and it dawned on me that he’d hired me to babysit Ian, and I’d failed. I had no idea where he was right now, and the concern that Michael might have been right ate at me. He’d hired me for a reason, and though it had seemed like a joke at the time, now I wondered how much truth there was to it.

  I decided to try calling Ian one more time, but this time it went straight to voicemail like the phone had been turned off. It had been an hour and a half since he’d left, and he wasn’t answering his phone.

  Or he’s ignoring you. I pushed the thought away, unwilling to consider it, until I knew he was safe. I slid my shoes on, grabbing my purse as I headed to the elevator, determined to find him, even though I didn’t have the slightest idea where he was. The ding of an incoming message froze me, and I let out a shaky breath as I saw it was from Ian.

  “I’m fine.”

  His response was eerily similar to the words I’d spoken aloud trying to convince myself of the same thing. My hand hovered on the call button for the elevator, uncertain if I should go out and find him in spite of the text. Another ding had me swiping at my phone.

  “Read your book. You can handle being alone for a few hours, can’t you?”

  The words stung with their unexpectedness.

  If he was looking to hurt me, he had succeeded with his casual taunt. I waited, staring at the phone as if he would call and explain his text. He’d never been so abrupt, and it felt….wrong.

  I walked slowly back to the sofa. My purse slipped off my shoulder, and I flung it across the room as it became apparent he wasn’t going to respond further.

  The next hour dragged by as I went over every word of the day’s conversations. His disappearing act made no sense, nor did his text. It was as if he wanted to hurt me. Make me angry. But why?

  I paced, slowing as my anger dwindled. He’d ignored my phone call, and intentionally sent me to voicemail, because he didn’t want to speak to me.

  Then why text me?

  Because he didn’t want you to go out and find him, a voice whispered in my head, and I knew it was true. It was late, and the last thing he would want was for me to go out alone searching for him. It wouldn’t be safe. Or he just doesn’t want you to know what he’s up to. I disregarded the thought almost immediately. He may not want me to know what he was doing, but that wasn’t his reason for responding. He wanted me to remain safely in the hotel suite. My instinct told me that, and I ignored the voice that whispered, or maybe you’re just desperate to believe it.

  My finger stroked the face of my phone, reconsidering my decision not to call Michael. He knew Ian best. Maybe he could explain why he’d acted this way, or at the very least maybe he knew where he was. I shook my head and tossed the phone on the sofa as I went back to pacing.

  Ian had his reasons, and after my talk with Michael I had a feeling sending Michael after Ian would be a mistake. He was, after all, a grown man, one who’d by his own admission spent the majority of his time partying and drinking. He’d done none of that the past week and maybe he’d decided he was bored and wanted to have fun. But why act like he was coming back with ice cream? Why not just tell me he wanted to go out without me for a while?

  Maybe because you’re his babysitter and a goody two shoes?

  I groaned, growing irritated with the obnoxious voice in my head. So, what if it was right? It didn’t explain Ian’s sudden about face. One minute he was talking about his parents, then he was off to get ice cream, and suddenly he decided not to come back?

  My phone started to ring, and I darted back over to the sofa, managing to trip on the table and hit my arm when I did.

  “Hello?” I gasped, shoving the phone to my ear without even seeing who called.

  “Lass, you alright?”

  “Buster!” Of course. If anyone could find Ian and not ask questions, it would be Buster.

  “You sound relieved. What’s going on lass? I got an odd call from Ian telling me to check on you, and you sound out of breath.”

  “You heard from Ian?” I tried to hide the relief in my voice, but didn’t manage based on his next words.

  “Aye, and odd it was. He sounded a bit … off.” Buster’s hesitation tipped me off that he suspected something, but didn’t want to tell me. “He asked me to call and check on you. What I want to know is why I need to check on you when he’s supposed to be with you?”

  “Where are you?” I asked, deflecting the question.

  “With Michael. He asked me to drive him this evening and keep watch for paparazzi. He didn’t want photographs or speculation arising from his business dinner.”

  “Oh yeah, his business dinner.” Buster didn’t miss my implication, but he also wasn’t going to be distracted from the matter at hand.

  “Why isn’t Ian with you?”

  “I don’t know,” I admitted, swallowing hard. Buster’s surprise at Ian’s absence and his subsequent call to check on me confirmed Ian’s behavior was unusual, at least unusual in this situation. “He told me he was going to get ice cream, but he didn’t come back. I got worried, but he didn’t answer my calls. He finally texted me, but it was kinda rude.”

  “Rude? Ian?” Buster’s tone was shocked. “That doesn’t sound like him. Well, it does, but not where you’re concerned,” he corrected, and I shook my head, even though he couldn’t see me.

  “I think you and Michael might be wrong about how Ian feels toward me,” I told him finally, chewing on my lip nervously. My conversation with Buster wasn’t helping the uneasiness I felt.

  “No, lass. You don’t realize how much you’ve changed the ba
stard. I’ve been with Ian for the past five years. This last week, he’s been a changed man. Something is wrong.” The Scottish burr deepened as he finished and I shivered. If Buster was worried, then it helped explain the unease that had plagued me since I realized Ian wasn’t coming back.

  “Can you find him?” My voice was small as I asked, afraid he’d tell me no.

  “Aye. I’m on my way. Don’t fash yourself, lassie. I’ll find him and bring him home.”

  “Thank you.” The phone slipped from my hand as he hung up, and I was left to wait.

  I didn’t have long to wait as the door crashed open less than thirty minutes later.

  I jumped up only to see Michael standing there, looking far more rumpled than normal. I blinked at him as he heaved a sigh and glanced up at the ceiling, his hands on his hips.

  Chapter Eight

  Michael

  “You’re alright,” I stated unnecessarily, inexplicably relieved to find her unharmed and wearing a pair of Ian’s overly large pajama bottoms.

  “Yes?” Jane answered uncertainly. She appeared baffled at my sudden presence and a touch flustered as well. My response was a tight smile as I carefully stepped away from the elevator so the doors could close. “Are you okay?” Jane added, her gaze cautious as she took in my appearance. I was always in control, compared to Ian’s passionate nature.

  “I was afraid this would happen,” I replied, reaching to unbutton my suit jacket only to find it already was. “He shouldn’t have disappeared on you. Honestly, I didn’t think he would. Not tonight.” My voice was low, as I tried to convince myself that Ian’s disappearing act wasn’t my fault, but it was difficult considering this was classic Ian when he was upset and if there was any chance he’d seen who my companion was tonight….. “What happened?”

  Jane blinked at the sudden question I directed at her.

  “He went to get ice cream. He just didn’t come back.”