“You are the devil’s own temptation, lass,” he groaned and seeming unable to stop himself he brushed a kiss over my lips. “My momma always said a raven haired lass would be the death of me.”
Before I could question his statement, he hauled us up, somehow managing to stand me upright while dragging a sheet around his hips.
“Give me a second, lass, and I’ll go with you,” he rumbled and I nodded, backing away. I stumbled and he reached out, catching my arm and keeping me standing.
“I’m gonna wait,” I muttered, trying not to stare at his chest. “Out there,” I added, pointing to the door. “Not here. Here would be bad.”
“That it would, lass,” Buster chuckled and I scurried for the door, cursing Ian and Michael for sending me in here and facing the devil’s own temptation.
When we made it outside, we found Michael and Ian arguing next to the car. Michael’s jaw was clenched as Ian spoke, their voices pitched too low to hear.
“Great,” Buster muttered, his hand on my elbow as he escorted me to the car. The brothers immediately ceased their argument at our arrival and Buster smoothly opened the back door. “Jane can sit in the back with Michael,” he decided and there was no argument as Michael attempted a tight smile for my benefit.
“God forbid, Michael ride in the front,” Ian muttered, a little too loudly to be considered anything but an insult. “He must be chauffeured since he doesn’t like how Americans drive.”
“True. I find it utterly ridiculous to have to drive on the right,” Michael responded lightly, obviously refusing the bait. The backup of cars behind us had me sliding into the backseat quickly, and he gently closed the door after joining me. A moment later, Ian was settled into the front seat, and Buster had accelerated out of the garage.
“Is this why Ian normally drives? Because you don’t like to?” I asked, twisting around in my seat.
“Partially. Ian is correct that I usually have Buster chauffer me. The other reason is that Ian enjoys driving and who would I be to deny him his pleasure?” Michael’s smile was beatific as Ian snorted.
“I do believe you’ve made an art out of denying me my pleasure, brother,” Ian replied jokingly, seeming to have recovered from their argument. He tossed a quick glance back at us. “Don’t let him fool you, love. Michael enjoys lording it over us from the backseat.” Ian’s grin was wicked, and Michael didn’t deny the accusation, instead clearing his throat and settling back.
“Why does Buster drive you?” I asked curiously.
“Because both of their driving scares me silly, lassie,” Buster answered candidly, merging into traffic as I grinned.
“Yes, he declares I have a death wish when I drive,” Michael replied dryly as Ian and Buster nodded their agreement to that statement. “However, Buster is indispensable, so I allow him a great deal of leeway when he comments on my driving.”
“Allow,” Buster snorted and I giggled as Michael gave me a conspirator’s grin.
“So, what exactly do you do, Buster?” I knew he was their chauffer and bodyguard, and he also offered legal advice, but he was far too intelligent to only be considered hired muscle.
“What doesn’t he do might be the better question.” Ian replied with a sideways glance.
“Yes, he is a man of many talents, almost all of which have proven themselves useful over the years. I couldn’t really say what he doesn’t do,” Michael concluded, and I nodded.
“So you don’t really need me,” I told them, glancing out the window.
“Why would you say that? Of course we need you,” Ian declared, twisting around in his seat to give me a shocked stare.
“Turn around,” Buster told Ian sharply, “Seatbelts aren’t meant to work when you’re backwards.”
“It pains me, but I must agree with Ian on this. Why would you think we don’t need you?” Michael asked, turning toward me. I hadn’t anticipated such a strong reaction to my comment and gave them a surprised look.
“I only meant that you have Buster to take care of problems. You don’t need me to babysit Ian.” The words came out smaller than I’d intended, fear shrinking my vocal cords. If they didn’t need me, then where would I go? Glancing at the three of them, I felt settled, accepted, like I belonged.
“Au contraire, my dear. That is precisely why we need you.” Michael leaned back, relaxed now, and Ian nodded, pointing to him. “Listen to him, love.”
“Yes, listen to Michael,” Buster added, his focus on the road in front of us.
“Buster, well, he gets a bit irritated with Ian, and I’ve been forced to give him countless raises to keep him, because of it. Since you’ve arrived, Ian’s behavior has improved so much that Buster isn’t needed to clean up his messes and instead can spend working hours with me; an arrangement we both find much more satisfactory. You, Jane, are doing us an immense favor by keeping an eye on Ian.”
“Really?” I asked, not having expected their candor. Ian didn’t seem the slightest bit put off by the fact that both his brother and bodyguard openly admitted he needed a babysitter to keep him out of their hair.
“Yes.” Buster’s blunt reply left no room for argument, so I settled for staring out the window at the seemingly never-ending swirl of human life that made up New Orleans.
They were a vivid group, colorful and passionate, directly at odds with the gentlemen I found myself in the company of. Something about the city and its people tugged at me. Their zest for life was refreshing, as well as freeing. This was a town steeped in history, but everyone here lived for the moment. It was a never-ending party and anything was cause for celebration, even death.
As Buster parked the car, my thoughts scattered, my attention fully taken by the house we’d parked in front of. It had a For Sale sign discreetly tucked against the wrought iron gate, and I could barely make out white columns behind the tangle of overgrown plants in the courtyard. I hopped out of the car before they could open it for me, and went to the fence, leaning against it as I peered through the curtain of greenery. The guys came to stand beside me as I inhaled the scent of damp earth.
New Orleans was perched on a swamp, the French Quarter one of the only bits of high land anywhere around, and everything here held the faint whiff of decay, due to the constant moisture. It was a city well aware it was here only at Mother Nature’s benevolence and therefore acted accordingly.
“It doesn’t have quite the same history as London, but it does have its own flair,” Michael commented as he studied the house and courtyard.
“It’s like the Secret Garden,” I murmured, completely enthralled by the mysterious house. I could barely make out its shape, surrounded as it was by greenery, but the iron gate and cobblestone courtyard painted the picture of a proper Southern plantation. A smile lit my face as I pictured Michael drinking his tea here.
I let go of the fence reluctantly, sorry we couldn’t go inside. Ian held out his arm, and I looped my hand around the crook of his elbow as we stepped away from the house. We’d only taken a few steps, with Michael trailing behind us, when I stopped.
I pointed at Michael’s suit jacket and told him, “Take it off.” He glanced around like there was a chance I could be talking to someone else, and I marched over to him, tugging on the sleeve. “Off! It’s a hundred degrees out here. You can lose the jacket.” I eyed him and added, “And the tie. Oh, and unbutton your collar.” He looked aghast at my demands and, if I hadn’t been so serious, I would have laughed.
“Go on,” Buster told him. “I’d hate to have to enforce the lass’s demands,” he added, an extra threat layered in his voice.
“You do recall who pays you?” Michael said, but there was no heat behind it. I could hear Ian snickering behind us though, as Michael slowly shrugged out of his jacket. A quick jerk on the knot at his throat, and the tie loosened. I held out my arms, and he draped the jacket over them and then the tie.
“Buster, the door.” He unlocked and opened the car door for me, and I set the custom tailore
d clothing on the backseat. I was careful, since I knew it was probably worth more than my entire wardrobe. I spun back around to see Michael still standing there in his properly buttoned and crisp white shirt. “Michael, unbutton the top two at least. You look all starchy.”
“And is there something wrong with that, pray tell?” he asked haughtily. I widened my arms in an attempt to encompass the entire city.
“There’s nothing wrong with it. It’s just not necessary,” I told him. “Look around, no one else is wearing an expensive suit. Blend in and stay cool. Roll up your sleeves.” He took in my exasperated arm motions with an arched eyebrow, but went ahead and unbuttoned his collar. I knew that would be the best I was going to get, so I looped my arm back through Ian’s and let myself be escorted down the street.
Chapter Twelve
Buster
They walked ahead of us; Jane with her arm looped through Ian’s, a perfect foil for one another. Jane with her raven locks presented a startling contrast to Ian’s golden coloring.
“He knows,” I told Michael, unsurprised when Michael nodded and admitted, “Yes, I figured that out last night when he accused me of sleeping with Audra.”
“Should we tell him the truth?” I asked, my eyes following the sway of Jane’s hips through her demure skirt. My hands clenched at the memory of her soft thigh in my hand, at how easily it could have went further. I shook the thoughts away, already seeing the way Ian watched her. It was the first time in a long time he’d shown any hint of concern for another human being that wasn’t me or his brother. It didn’t matter how I felt about Jane, I wouldn’t risk betraying a man I considered kin.
“I wish he would tell us the truth,” Michael murmured, his hand straying to his loosened collar unconsciously. “I know I don’t have the full story of what she did, only what our parents let slip, but it’s enough to know she will pay for the hurt she caused him.”
“He might burn the entire city down before you can enact your plan,” I answered, taking a deep breath and straining the shirt I’d thrown on after Jane had slipped from the room. I wanted to curse Michael for sending her in to wake me, but at the same time, I wouldn’t trade a second of the morning’s wake up for the world.
“That is where Jane come in,” Michael stated and I glanced at him in surprise. Had he planned her presence without my knowledge? “No,” Michael answered, correctly reading my expression. “Her presence is nothing more than happy circumstance, but one I have no problem taking advantage of in our current situation. He enjoys her company.” Michael paused and slipped his hands into his pockets. “He’s more like the Ian of our youth with her. I’d forgotten what that was like, to see him happy.”
“Aye, he’s different with Jane,” I agreed, ignoring the curl of disappointment inside of my chest as Jane glanced back over her shoulder at us and smiled. “She’s a bonny lass.”
“I kissed her,” Michael stated, and my steps faltered.
“Are you trying to send him over the edge?” I questioned, the words automatic as I fought a surge of jealousy. It dissipated quickly when Ian twirled Jane and she laughed, waving at us as she spun around.
Michael sighed and said, “Of course not. It was a momentary lapse in judgement brought on by bourbon and timing.”
“We’re blaming the bourbon now?” I ribbed him, knowing I didn’t even have that excuse.
“And the moonlight in her hair,” Michael murmured, his words so unexpected I stopped and stared at him. “Ignore me,” he mumbled, waving a hand.
“If it makes you feel any better, I might have taken a liberty or two with her this morning when she woke me up,” I admitted with a wince, glancing at him out of the corner of my eye.
Michael opened his mouth and closed it, at a loss for words.
“It can’t happen again,” he said finally, after we’d walked further. “From either of us. We must concentrate on the plan, our focus cannot waver, and we can’t allow Ian to feel betrayed by Jane. No matter what we may feel.”
“Agreed,” I replied, content to see the joy on her face as she listened to Ian croon on about some random story.
Chapter Thirteen
Ian had apparently been reading up on the area and gave us an amusing tour; one I was certain had to be partially made up, because some of it didn’t sound possible. When I called him on it, he protested my accusation vehemently.
“I assure you, I have not made up a single thing. Everything I’ve said came directly from the guidebook.”
“Really.” Michael’s deadpan tone had me giggling and Ian shot me a betrayed glare.
“See? This is what I get for attempting to regale you with this city’s illustrious history: Disbelief and accusations of lying.” He shook his head in disappointment, and I bumped against him.
“It was a wonderful tour. However, I hope you made some of that up. Otherwise, it’s incredibly creepy.”
“Agreed. That one house had skulls on the fence,” Michael commented, opening the door to a small grocery store. “Ian, did you wish to stop for lunch? Or is your stomach still sensitive from last night’s revelry?”
“I’m starving!” he exclaimed, clapping Michael on the back. “Thanks for asking, old chap.”
“This place is supposed to have the best po’boys in the area. It’s a must eat,” I told them, pointing to the sign in the window.
“Then we must eat,” Buster exclaimed loudly, patting his flat stomach.
We ordered and wandered through the small grocery, exploring as we waited for our order. I poked at the small alligator skull on the counter and avoided the small voodoo dolls displayed everywhere. Once they called our order, we sat in the corner, the table barely big enough to hold our food, and I laughed as Buster tried to fit his enormous frame on to the tiny chair.
“Oh for God’s sake, if it breaks we’ll buy them a new one,” Michael said, exasperated, and Buster plopped down, the chair creaking ominously, but it held.
Michael studied the messy debris po’boy in front of him warily. With a sigh, he unbuttoned his shirtsleeves and rolled them up to reveal impressively muscled forearms.
“You should do that more often, Michael.” He gave me a questioning look, and I pointed to his forearms. “Show off your muscles.” I gave him an impish grin as Ian choked next to me. Michael gave me a faintly irritated glance as he scooped up the messy sandwich and took a bite. The gravy oozed out of the po’boy and trickled down his hand, but from his satisfied moan Michael didn’t mind. I popped a French fry in my mouth, crossing my legs as I tried to ignore the last time I’d heard him moan like that as his mouth devoured mine.
“Delicious,” he managed to mutter between bites, causing the rest of us to share a smile as we dove into our own lunches. It didn’t take us long to finish off our meals, and Michael began to methodically wipe the remnants of his lunch from his hands.
“So would you bring last night’s dinner date here, Michael?” I teased, watching him.
“For the love of God ….” he said, glancing up in exasperation. He paused, though, when he caught sight of Ian’s face. I glanced over curiously and saw a frozen expression plastered on his face. I frowned at the sight, and switched my gaze back to Michael. He forced his expression to change, but not before I caught a glimmer of concern. “It was not a date. It was a business dinner with an associate. One I don’t happen to like.” His eyes flickered to Ian periodically as he spoke, and eventually I felt the tension emanating from Ian lessen.
“What do you mean?” I asked curiously. Michael rarely spoke of his business dealings, and it was unusual to see him express displeasure over an associate. In fact, I’d never heard him speak of any before yesterday.
“I question the intentions behind the acquisition of this latest company. It’s a solid business that has been mismanaged. Our father wishes to acquire and dismantle it.” I must have looked confused, because he clarified. “He wants to sell its parts for a profit. I’ve made my opinion of this decision known, and he r
esponded by sending a watchdog, or more accurately, a spy.” His disgust was apparent as he tossed the dirty napkins onto the plate.
“So it’s not necessary to break the company up?”
“No, not at all. In fact, with the right guidance, the company could easily show a considerable profit again, within the next five years.” I nodded, a little out of my depth, but trying to understand what he did.
“But your dad doesn’t want to do that?”
“No, he would rather buy it and destroy it, lay off people in the process, and take whatever instant profit he can.” Michael shook his head and sighed. “It’s what he does, even when there are better options.”
Ian spoke then, startling me after his long silence.
“Why don’t we buy it then?” I gazed at him in surprise, and I wasn’t the only one as Michael said, “Are you serious? You’ve never once expressed an interest in business dealings.”
“And I don’t now, but you’re obviously unhappy about the buyout’s outcome. We can purchase it, and you can turn it around. Problem solved.”
“But our parents ….”
“Deserve it,” Ian bit out, before sighing, “Your loyalty has always been admirable, brother, but trust me when I say they deserve to lose out. What’s one business deal gone awry? Hmmm? Haven’t you made them a ridiculous sum of money already with your innate talent for finding the failing gems?”
“Yes, but ….”
“But what? Together we have more than enough, and I have faith in you, big brother.”
“It would tie up a great deal of our funds,” Michael said distractedly, his mind obviously working out the logistics of what Ian had suggested. “There’s no guarantee.”
“I’ll throw in my lot with you sods,” Buster broke in, and I noticed Michael’s eyes narrow on him before he cleared his expression.
Charming Jane_A Reverse Harem Romance Page 15