Natural Blond Instincts (5 page)

T
HAT NIGHT
,
Kenna stayed up late, working in her fancy hotel room. From her little foray into the records department, she'd discovered something interesting. The projected analysis on the renovations, salaries, expenses, everything, had been carefully filled out, and yet there'd been no follow-up since adding this hotel to the Mallory fleet. Because of that, no one could see at a glance how things had gone.

Had they overspent on the renovations done so far? Underspent? What? No way to tell.

Employee contracts were up for renewal, but how could management go into negotiations without seeing how the last contracts had benefited them and
not
benefited them?

So she spent the next two hours burning the midnight oil, working on her little laptop that kept freezing up—the poor thing was so old it could scarcely handle the spreadsheets and reports—
working until she came up with articulate and concise thoughts on the matter.

Only then did she get into bed, satisfied that for one day at least, she'd earned her keep.

But one thing Kenna had never been able to do was turn off her brain. She lay there in her frou-frou room with the antique Queen Anne bed, staring at the ornately decorated ceiling painted in elegant cream and thought about what she'd done.

Committed to six months in this place.

Sure, the numbers and accounting would be fun, and so would torturing Serena with her presence, and maybe even a little torture thrown Wes's way as well, but no doubt, being here would also take its toll.

Although Wes had actually, genuinely made her laugh tonight. Shocking. She'd always had a thing for a guy who could make her laugh, and she had a sinking feeling that beneath Weston Roth's fancy dark suits beat the heart of a sharp cynic.

Call her sick, but she liked that, too.

Okay, forget sleep. It just wasn't going to happen. Tossing aside her covers, she looked around, wondering how to amuse herself. For the first time in recent memory she actually had luxury at her fingertips and she was just lying around. What a complete waste of her time.

She drew herself a bubble bath in the decadent bathtub. Sinking into the hot water was heaven, and she lay back, wondering what tomorrow would bring, if people would appreciate her report…

And if Wes was going to wear a color tomorrow.

When she finally tried sleep again, slightly more relaxed now, she fell quickly. Unfortunately, somewhere near dawn, or what felt like it, the phone rang.

“Okay, listen up, cousin,” Serena said when Kenna managed to get the phone to her ear. “We have a few things to discuss.”

She blinked at the clock. Eight. In the morning. “Oh God.” She leapt out of bed. “I'm late.”

“Well, duh.”

“I didn't want to be late.” She grabbed up the clock radio, which indeed had been set for the proper time, and had indeed gone off, and was at this very moment spilling out soft-rock music.

Too soft-rock, apparently, as it hadn't come close to waking her. She tossed the thing down and looked around. Clothes. She needed clothes.

“Look, cuz, stay on page with me now. This call is about
moi.
Okay? So listen up. Stay away from him, he's mine.”

Kenna eyed a skirt hanging off the back of a chair
that probably had seen the eighteenth century. “Stay away from who?”

“Don't be coy. Wes has the best ass ever. He's a catch and I already have the catcher's glove on.”

“Weston
Roth?
”

“
Wake up,
would you? Slap yourself, pinch yourself, something.”

“I am awake.” Now, anyway. What to go with the skirt? “You make him sound like a piece of meat.”

“Do I?”

Kenna stopped in the act of stripping. “You're serious. You're going after him because he's got a great ass.”

“Why else?”

Um, because he was smart. Because he had a job.

Okay, because he had a great ass.

But a good ass did not a good man make. Kenna required far more. Her cousin could have him. “How does he feel about this?”

“Oh, please.” Serena scoffed. “If you'd thought of it first, you'd use him, too.”

“I have no desire to use him. Or anyone.”

“God, you are so sanctimonious, you know that? I know damn well—hell, the entire family knows damn well—you have this little secret fantasy of fitting in, of being like the rest of us. Now that chance is being dangled out in front of you like a carrot
with this job, so don't pretend you don't care. You want Uncle Kenneth to see you, to see the real you, and be proud of that woman. And if Wes turns out to be able to help you with that, you'll use him in a heartbeat. So. I'm telling you now. Back off.”

“You're insane.”

“Fine. You don't want to back off. Then may the best woman win.”

“I'm not going to play that game with you, Serena.”

“Whatever you say. But he's going to be mine. Good luck today, cuz. Ta-ta.”

When the dial tone rang in her ear, Kenna hung up and shook her head. Good luck? She was going to need it, but not for the reasons Serena thought. Yes, Wes was way too into Mallory Enterprises and all it entailed, but he was entitled to be the man he wanted to be, just as she was entitled to be herself.

This wasn't personal. She wouldn't use him, not to fit in, not to do her job, not for anything.

She was going to do this on her own.

Hence the need for good luck.

Hopping around, she shoved her legs one at a time into her skirt, imagining Wes checking his fancy watch. Well, at least she didn't have to take the time to make her bed, she actually had maid service for that. Her heels were lower today, but not by
much, as exceptional height gave her confidence. Her skirt was longer, too, but tighter, making long strides difficult if not a detriment to her health. The blouse, however, she prided herself on. It wasn't exactly business-like with its sheerness, but the camisole beneath was a definite antique, and soft and creamy against her skin. In the ensemble she felt pretty and sexy, and when she was pretty and sexy she knew she could take on the world.

So world, here she came.

She left her room and got on the elevator, where she watched the glowing numbers descend, until she stepped off on the corporate floor, which opened into a large, fancy reception area decorated as the rest of the hotel was—sophisticated and refined.

The air buzzed with activity. Everywhere she looked, well-dressed,
darkly
dressed employees went about their day doing…actually, she still wasn't clear on that part because she hadn't studied the organizational charts and job descriptions yet. But she would be.

Her cousin Serena, looking extremely Mallory in her perfectly fitted navy-blue business suit, stood next to one of the front desks. It was occupied by a man in his early twenties whipping his fingers across a keyboard.

“So what, you're swamped,” Serena said to him, practically hanging over his shoulder. “This is your job, Josh, and my uncle—”

“Yeah, yeah, we all know who the uncle is.” He shot her an annoyed look. “Now, if you'd quit downloading porn from the Internet, maybe you'll stop freezing your computer up.”

“It's not porn. All I wanted was that firefighter calendar.”

“How can you tell they're firefighters?” Josh clicked a few keys and a full body shot of an almost-naked hunk filled the screen. “The only equipment he's got is his—”

“Just fix it, computer boy.”

“Right.” Josh's tie was loose, his sleeves shoved past his elbows. With his lean body, hunching shoulders and frowning features, he looked quite tense but then Serena tended to do that to a person.

“What is it with firefighters anyway?” he muttered. “I could look that good in suspenders, no shirt and a fire hat, too. Want to see it?”

“Not in this lifetime,” Serena said, then she caught sight of Kenna and affixed a superior smile to her mouth. “Well, look who decided to show up for work. Uncle Kenneth told me to make you right at home in a special office, so I picked one out, just for you.” The smile she sent Kenna put her on full
alert. “Last one on the left. You've got meetings all day, starting…” She checked her diamond-studded watch. “Oops. Ten minutes ago. The first one is a meet-and-greet in Conference Room A. Come on, I'd better take you.”

“I can find it.”

“Probably, but it'll be far more fun to watch you muddle your way through your first real job.”

“You're so incredibly sweet first thing in the morning,” Kenna said. “It's touching.” They moved down yet another fancy hall with marble floors that made her wonder how her father kept from being sued right and left with broken ankles incurred by walking on the high-gloss surfaces.

Serena opened a set of floor-to-ceiling double doors with an extremely smug expression on her face. The room had a table larger than the apartment Kenna had left in Santa Barbara, and the chairs surrounding it were filled.

Wes came toward her with a smile on his face that didn't meet his eyes behind his glasses. She wondered if he'd forgotten to eat his Cheerios for breakfast but didn't have time to ask him before he started introducing her to staff—marketing director, sales director, customer service director—you name it, she met them.

“So, tell us, Kenna.” Serena gave her a sweet
smile after the intros. “How do you intend to make your mark here?”

Kenna looked around in surprise. Everyone looked at her right back.

Including Wes, who raised a challenging brow that made her want to smack him. She lifted the reports she'd worked on in the middle of the night. “Well, I plan on taking an interest in how our projected budgets line up with the finished projects outcome. I noticed that on the renovations, for instance, we've gone way over—”

“Honestly, Kenna.” Serena's laugh tinkled throughout the room. “You'll have enough to do in the present without worrying about the past.”

“The past is quite important to any corporation's present or future.” Kenna looked around her, but oddly enough, few met her gaze.

Except Wes. He cocked his head and studied her, the only one in the room to do so directly. “You have paperwork to back up your thoughts?”

Did she have paperwork? She loved paperwork.

“Yep.”

“It sounds extremely interesting.”

“It is extremely interesting.”

He wiggled his fingers toward her. “May I?”

Kenna looked around again. Suddenly everyone
was meeting her gaze. What a bunch of suck-ups. “Sure.” She tossed him the reports.

He caught them with ease, tucked them under his arm and looked around him. “Thanks. Okay, people, here's how the VP positions are going to work.” He then outlined how the division of duties would affect them, and what it meant to each department, while Kenna used the time to take stock of the fact that dark conservative clothing prevailed.

Except for Wes and his red tie, that is. She nearly grinned at that. Besides the tie, her turquoise skirt was the bright spot in the room.

When he finished, she shook a lot more hands. There was Mr. Bad Tie, Ms. Needs Highlights and so many others she hoped like hell she remembered their names later. In the midst of the can't-wait-to-work-with-you speeches, Kenna caught Serena's go-to-hell expression. Kenna knew from past experience that Serena was officially out to make her life miserable. Great. Just what she needed. Kenna escaped as soon as possible, looking forward to finding her office and digging into more work. On the way out, she grabbed Serena's arm. “Which office did you say was mine?”

An unholy gleam came into her cousin's eyes. “Fifth one on the right past the desk you saw me at earlier. Later.”

Yeah. Hopefully not.

Kenna followed the directions, counting the doors, and had just put her hand on the handle when she heard someone clear their throat.

Already she knew that sound, as the man it belonged to was a bundle of contradictions—cool and aloof, and yet capable of unpredictable bouts of quick wit and good humor. She'd told herself to ignore him, but deciding it and doing it were two entirely separate things.

Slowly she pivoted and faced one most definitely not-ignorable Weston Roth.

His smile was pure trouble. “Next round,” he said, and lifted a stack of papers and files in his hand. “These are for you.”

K
ENNA STARED
at Wes and took a deep breath. Next round. Perfectly chosen words. Fighting words. And Wes certainly had the build of a finely honed boxer, all tall and toughly lean.

Oh, yes, this was the next round. Bring it on. “What do you have there?”

“Since you gave me your paperwork, I thought it only fair to share mine for the day. I've got a stack of files and reports that will bring you up to speed for the week's worth of meetings.”

She stared at him, she couldn't help it. He was actually going to bring her into the decision-making process. He was going to treat her like an equal.

She'd known he'd have to make at least a pretense of it, but it appeared he planned on doing more than that. Why that touched her, she had no idea, but it did. It touched her and took her completely off guard. Clearly she'd been feeling a little more vulnerable than she could have imagined. But she hadn't gone with the waterproof mascara this
morning so she bucked up. Besides, it was one thing to have a bad or weak moment, another entirely to show it.

“In particular,” he said. “I've got employee contracts and union demands. We're meeting with the reps in an hour to discuss strategies, so you might want to hustle.”

The lump turned to pure irritation.
An hour?
She could never—

“Can you get it together?”

“Of course,” she said, her nose so high in the air she risked a nosebleed.

Wes gestured to her still-closed office. “Did you pick this one?”

“Serena did.”

His dark-blue eyes, deep and mysterious behind his glasses, gave nothing away, nothing except a small glimmer of amusement. “You two are close then, huh?”

“Like this.” She lifted two fingers, entwined. “So…we're working on employee contracts today.”

“Just this morning. By eleven we'll be going over the financial statements. Quarterlies just came in.”

Great, she'd be in her element, as opposed to this morning and the union work, which she knew nothing about. Yikes. She'd have to speed-read, she'd have to— Her thoughts scattered away when she re
alized he was staring at her. Specifically, her mouth. “Um…what? Do I have crumbs on my face or something?”

“Nothing.” He looked away.

And she found herself looking at
his
mouth. Firm and…well, downright sexy if she was being honest.

Whoa. She had no idea where that completely inappropriate thought had come from. He was a suit. He was a Mallory drone. He was completely and totally not for her.

Ever.

“Okay, listen.” He took a step closer, pinning her with nothing more than his sharp eyes and the feel of his big, beautiful body nearly brushing hers. “Did something weird just happen?”

“No.” She shook her head. “Absolutely not.”

He looked at her for a long moment. “You're right. It was nothing.”

She managed a smile. “Look at that, our third agreement. This is going to be a piece of cake.”

His mouth curved. “Cake, huh?”

Oh, boy, he had a smile. It went straight to her good spots, which hello, hadn't been heard from in a while. It made her own smile freeze.

“Don't do that,” he said quietly. “Don't over-think it. It was nothing. Remember that.”

“And even if it wasn't nothing, I'm good at disci
pline. I can eat just one cookie or even one chip and resist—”

“I'm not a cookie, Kenna. Or a chip.”

She couldn't help it, she laughed, thinking a cookie and a delicious-looking man weren't really all that different.

“Terrific.” He let out a frustrated breath. “Look, I don't suppose you can
not
laugh? Ever?”

Slowly, fighting a smile, she shook her head.

“Yeah.” A muscle in his jaw ticked.

Interesting. Also a little unsettling. She tugged his red tie. “Was this for me, Wes?”

His dark, dark eyes were inscrutable as they roamed her face. “Maybe I just needed a splash of color.” He leaned past her and opened the door.

Of course he smelled fantastic. And she had to work not to snuggle in and breathe deep of his woodsy scent. Oh brother, what was the matter with her today? Had it been that long since a man had looked at her?

Yes, she had to admit. Her last boyfriend had taught yoga and had been so low-key, so relaxed, she'd often put a hand over his mouth and nose in bed to make sure he was still breathing.

He hadn't even realized when she'd left him.

He probably still hadn't realized.

To distance herself, she walked into her new of
fice, if it could be called an office. The place was spotless, she'd give it that. And smaller than a postage stamp. Seriously, the place was too small to be a closet. The chrome desk took up the entire floor, so much so that when two women and a man tried to follow them in—Ms. Needs Highlights, Mr. Bad Tie and a woman Kenna hadn't met—each with their arms full of various files and computer reports, they had to crowd in the doorway rather than come in.

“Ms. Mallory, here's the conferencing schedule for the week—”

“Ms. Mallory, I've got subcontractor contracts for you to go over—”

“Ms. Mallory, I have—”

Head spinning, Kenna held up a hand. She looked around the place and shook her head. Serena had definitely gotten her.

New score: Serena—1, Kenna—1.

Wes stepped up. “I'll talk to Serena—”

“No,” she said firmly, not wanting to give Serena any extra reasons to deal with Wes. That alone made so little sense, she shook the thought off. “I'll handle it.” With a deep breath, she looked at the employees waiting to hand her stacks of…stuff. She'd had classes in both management and hotel management, she'd grown up on bedtime stories about the hotel industry, but for the first time it truly
hit her that she had no practical experience. The urge to panic nearly overcame her.
Calming images,
she could hear Ray telling her. Calming images.
She was in a boat, on a beautiful ocean bay…

With a leak.
“Lay it on me,” she said, and held out her hands.

In less than sixty seconds, they'd left her a mountain of paperwork and had vanished.

She looked at Wes.

He looked at her. “You should know, I told them to bring you those files.”

“Did you think it would make me run for the hills?”

He looked her over. “Are you feeling the urge to run?”

“Hell, no.” She fingered the files. “And I should tell you, I'm not feeling scared either.”

“What are you feeling?”

“Very, very competitive.” She smiled. “I'm going to do this, Wes.”

“So you've said.”

“I'm sorry if you thought this job would be yours alone, but I'm not sorry I'm here.”

Before he could respond to that, her phone started ringing.

“I don't think an assistant has been assigned to you yet.” Wes reached for the phone.

She pushed his hand aside and got it herself. “Kenna Mallory,” she answered, but the phone kept ringing. She realized her phone had three lines and each of them were going off. She listened to some harassed duty manager start to ramble on about a celebrity wanting to redecorate her suite with her own artwork.

“Can you hold?” Kenna clicked on to the other line and was rewarded with a housekeeping manager ranting about the scheduling mix-up and how she needed authorization to call in off-duty help. “Hold please.”

By the time she got to line three, the person had either hung up or been transferred to depths unknown.

“What do you have?” Wes asked.

“Nothing I can't handle.” She looked pointedly toward the door.

“Oh, you want to be on your own.”

“I do pretty good on my own.” She punched line one. “Hello. Tell the celebrity she can bring in any artwork she'd like as long as she doesn't mar the walls or damage any artwork currently in her room.” She punched line two. “Call in whatever help you need to get through the shift.” She hung up the phone and looked at Wes.

“The celebrity should have been told no,” he said.

“Maybe he or she has been on tour and is homesick, and needs a piece of home,” she said.

“Maybe they're just spoiled rotten.”

“We're here to serve, Wes.”

“Is that why you approved the extra staff? Which, by the way, will cost time and a half.”

“The employees will love it, so it'll help out both the service for the day, and boost morale at the same time.”

He stared at her, then shook his head.

“What?”

“You're nothing like your father.”

And you're just like him, she thought.

He took one last look around. “This office is too small for you.”

“It's fine—”

“Serena's is twice the size of this one.”

“Yes, well, size means a lot to Serena.”

“I would have thought it meant a lot to you, too.”

His gaze was daring, and she'd never been good at resisting a baiting. “Well, now,” she drawled and lifted a shoulder. “That depends on what we're sizing.”

He undoubtedly would have responded to that if his pager hadn't gone off. He looked down at the thing hooked on his hip, then looked at her. “They're here. The union reps.”

“Okay.” Calming images. She could do this. She picked up the correct files. “Should I speed-read here or are you going to give me the Cliff Notes version?”

He let out a grudging smile.

Oh man, she'd nearly forgotten how attractive he could be when he did that, grudging or otherwise. “You think this is amusing?”

“No, actually,” he said. “I'm quite intrigued by your coolness under pressure. You've got the blond bombshell look down, and yet…”

“And yet?”

“You're the one of the toughest woman I've met.”

She opened her mouth, ready to leap down his throat, but she was certain that there'd been a compliment in there somewhere. “Thanks. I think.”

“You're welcome. I think.”