Natural Blond Instincts (3 page)

He should, but he had to admit, his curiosity had gotten the better of him. Anyone within the company would give their eyeteeth to have this job. There were several qualified people, probably cry
ing in their coffee right this very minute because Mr. Mallory had given it to
him.

And his daughter.

Wes wasn't worried about the others. He knew he was the best man for the job, just as he knew he'd worked his tail off for it for years. No guilt there.

But if he were Kenna, he'd feel that guilt in spades. She'd done nothing other than go to college—on her daddy's wallet no doubt—and then she'd taken a series of jobs that on paper suggested either a bipolar condition or a serious attention deficit disorder. This vagabond background made her completely unsuitable for the job, and everyone around her would feel the same way. As a manager, that was going to make it inherently difficult on her, and therefore also on him. Surely her father had to know that.

Could she handle it? He actually hadn't heard much about her until recently. The gossip mill suddenly had become agog with rumors, how she'd tricked her father into giving her the job, how she'd stepped all over her cousin—who'd been working at Mallory Enterprises for years—to get placed ahead of her. How all she'd had to do was bat her pretty long lashes and the world bowed at her feet.

Wes had little patience for the gossip, and less patience for the subject of the rumors. In his thirty-
three years he'd learned that hard work and dedication would get him where he wanted to be, nothing else, and he expected the same from the people he worked with. So, despite a poor first impression, he would make his own judgment about her.

And stop noticing the peaches-and-cream lip-gloss.

To that effect, he stopped looking at her face, but that was trouble in itself. She was still standing, which left him quite the view, with his eyes just about belly-button level.

Her tank and skirt required sunglasses to look at, but he squinted and braved it. Both hugged her body, emphasizing her mile-long legs, her curves…and the slight outline of a ring at her navel.

Inanely, he wondered what else was pierced.

Oh, man. Bad idea to wonder such things, and he removed his glasses so that she was nothing but a blur.

Much better.

“Well.” There was an arctic cold front in her tone. “What should we start with?”

“The best thing would be for you to familiarize yourself with what we're doing.”

She nodded in agreement. “I'd like to start with the renovations and the accounting associated with
that. Start preparing the final statements and reports.”

“Fine.” Good. Let her tackle the tedious task far, far away from him.

“Where would I find those records?”

“In the records room. Next floor up.”

“Great. As much as I've enjoyed your company, I'm off. I'm sure I'll be seeing you.” Her tone was only slightly warmer than that previous arctic temperature.

When she was gone, Wes let out a slow breath.
Seeing you.
He sank back to the chair and wondered why that had sounded more like a threat than a promise.

K
ENNA SPENT
hours in the records rooms, fascinated by everything. Locked away, alone, absorbing numbers and statements and projections, she actually thought she could enjoy this. Even thrive on it.

By the time she resurfaced, she was shocked to realize the entire day had gone by. Her stomach growled loudly in protest, and she went back to the corporate office level, eager now to jump right into her job.

The reception area was empty. The entire floor was empty. She checked her watch in tune to her still-growling stomach—5:09 p.m. Not that late—

A young man walked by. His name tag said, Intern: Jimmy Owens.

“Jimmy.” She gestured him closer. “Where is everyone?”

“Oh, they're gone. Last week there were meetings every night, going really late. Lots of grumblings, you know? Anyway, tonight Mr. Roth sent every
one home at five, including himself, to make up for it. I'm heading out now myself.”

Ah. A morale booster and an excellent idea. The only thing that surprised her was that someone like Weston Roth had even thought of it.

She left the building as well and drove around San Diego for a while, reacquainting herself with her childhood town. She drove past Seaport Village, the Horton Plaza, Ocean Beach…Sea World. Her stereo was blasting, her brain racing. Thinking in her old Civic soothed her, as did the sights.

Eventually, she ended up back at the beach, and got out to walk. Nothing beat the feel of the sand between her toes, the pounding of the waves on the shore. It gave her a warm fuzzy just standing there inhaling the salty summer air. College and traveling had been an adventure, but this was home.

She wanted to be here. Wanted to show her family what she could do. Misplaced pride? No doubt. And no doubt she'd pay for it, but she was going to do it anyway.

Sure, things had gotten off to a rocky start, but she was the queen of rocky starts, so that didn't scare her. And sure, people at the San Diego Mallory—more specifically
one
person, Wes himself—had doubts about her abilities and weren't shy about expressing them, but that didn't scare her either. All
her life she'd been underestimated, but she knew how to land on her feet.

She could do this. And after today, happily swimming in numbers and reports all day, she actually wanted to do well at this job.

At least for six months.

Bending to grab up a couple of rocks, she hefted one in her hand and skimmed it over the water. It bounced five, six…seven times. A personal record.

A personal record…just like this job would be.

 

N
O FAMILY
had such torturous family dinners as the Mallorys did on Monday nights, when personal lives were pried open and dissected for mistakes. When career achievements were heralded…and shoved in everyone's face.

Kenna hadn't been to one of her mother's family events in years, and she would have been perfectly happy to miss this one, but now that she was back in town, she was expected. And seeing how she was going to make her father's favorite employee's life hell on earth by just being herself, she felt generous.

Not that she didn't intend to give one hundred percent to the job, because she did. She was going to blow everyone's socks off with her plans and ideas.

Still refreshed from her walk on the beach, she
walked into the Encinitas family mausoleum. Home for the next six months.

They were all in the dining room, a room fit for royalty with all its pomp and splendor, and as she headed there, she automatically slowed down, remembering the days of her childhood.

Don't run, Kenna.

Don't be so wild, Kenna.

Slow down, Kenna.

For God's sake, do you always have to be so exuberant, Kenna?

Why can't you just fit in, Kenna?
Okay, no one had really ever asked her that, but she'd heard it just the same. The long traditionally-set table was full of family heirlooms. Over fancy china and crystal, her cousin Serena zinged a set of mental daggers her way. Once upon a time, they'd played with dolls together. Fought over the middle-school football jocks. Smirked over each other's prom dresses.

Being the same age had given them years and years to cultivate their differences, namely that Serena was the perfect Mallory, and Kenna was the wild, unfavorable one. Surprisingly, in recent years, there had been no dissent between them at all. After all, Serena had what she wanted, a job at Mallory Enterprises, and Kenna, the family black sheep, had posed no threat.

Yet now that black sheep had come home, stepped right over Serena on the career ladder, and for that Kenna was actually sorry, even while knowing that if Serena had really been good enough, she'd have Kenna's job by now and her father would never have bothered to call her.

Stepping all the way into the room, she smiled and waved.

Her aunt Regina and uncle Stephan were seated across from Serena, with Kenna's parents at either end of the table like bookends. Everyone was looking at her as if she was something the cat had dragged in.

Except for her mother, of course, who wore the perpetual worried-mother frown. She'd spent years giving Kenna just that exact look.

Oh, joy. Festive evening ahead.

“Hey, gang,” she said cheerily, testing the welcome waters.

She got a few muted hellos.

And it occurred to her, right then and there, that to preserve her sanity she was going to need her own space, pronto. Her Santa Barbara apartment was out, she couldn't make the three-and-a-half-hour commute twice a day. But unfortunately, until she actually learned what her salary was and received a paycheck, she was a tad stuck.

No worries though, from her early days of attending college without a trust fund, Kenna had become an expert at micro-managing and budgeting. She'd figure it out. “So…” Kenna plopped herself down and grabbed a fork. “How is everyone?”

Her father would have spoken—probably to blast her for the “honey I'm home” comment at work, but her mother cocked her head and gave him the quelling, calm look. Her mother was always calm, which Kenna supposed was a good trait for a surgeon.

“Sorry I missed you today, Dad. Lots to do.”

“Really? Like what?”

“Well, I read up on the renovations, for one.”

“Ah, yes. We're just now in the last phase.”

“I know. I have to say, I'm not that impressed with the budgeting.”

Her father blinked. “You…read the budget?”

“And you actually understood it?” This from Serena.

Kenna shot her a look, then turned back to her father. “Did you know you're spending more money on samples and mock-ups than you do on your employee benefits?”

“Appearances are extremely important, especially when you're dealing with a service. And don't let anyone tell you otherwise. We want this hotel to cater to a certain clientele and—”

“I know, but—”

“Kenna.” Serena laughed. “Surely you don't entertain the notion that you're going to jump in and change everything, including the foundation of elegance the company was built upon?”

Her father laughed, so did everyone else.

Except Kenna. She sat and took a deep breath. Truly, it was amazing her cousin's nose wasn't brown.

“So. What else did you read up on?” In true Mallory style her father continued his prodding into her day.

Kenna took a big scoop of potatoes. Carbo loading for the evening ahead. “Financials.”

“She was so busy reading, she never met a soul,” Serena said, and ate her green beans.

The twig. “I needed to educate myself,” Kenna said. She loved her family, and she was fairly certain they loved her, but sometimes she couldn't believe they shared DNA. “I don't like to go mouthing off without the facts.”

Serena sent a few more daggers Kenna's way.

“What do you think of Roth?” her father asked Kenna.

“Well…” She took a sip of water and tried to formulate a thought that would be politically correct enough. “He's everything I thought he'd be.” That
seemed safe enough. She stabbed at her perfectly prepared rare steak.

Serena made a choked noise, and when Kenna looked at her, she lifted her chin. “I'm having trouble picturing the two of you working together.”

“Really?” Kenna eyed her cousin, the perfect Mallory with her Katharine Hepburn beauty and elegant style that came from years of being rich. “Why is that?”

“Well…” Serena thought about it as she daintily chewed. “Weston and I were together in the Los Angeles Mallory before we were transferred here, so I feel I'm somewhat of an expert on him. He has an incredible work ethic.”

“And I don't?”

“Hey, you're the one who spent six memorable weeks dabbing drool off old men's chin in a retirement home.”

“That was a decent job, Serena.”

“Sure. You've had lots of decent jobs…about one every six months. Look, all I'm saying is that Wes is stable, smart and greatly admired. Right, Uncle Kenneth?”

Kenna's father nodded proudly.

“Work means everything to him,” Serena said. “While you on the other hand—” She stopped to let out a little laugh that assured everyone in the room
she wasn't
completely
slamming Kenna, she was simply teasing. “Well, we just established your résumé is a bit…scattered. I mean, combing poodle tails?”

Kenna smiled through the urge to tip a glass of ice water into her cousin's lap. “It's funny, the things you'll do to eat when you don't have a happy, hefty bank account.”

Serena had the good grace to back off. Somewhere deep,
deep
down inside, Kenna knew there lurked a good woman, but God knows how far buried she was. Sighing, she pushed her plate away and rose. “You know what? I'm full. What I need is some good sleep before another big day.” She kissed her mother's cheek. “Good night.”

“Good night,” her father said. “I'll wake you at six for a run.”

Oh, good Lord. She hadn't seen six in the morning since…ever. She hadn't been under their noses in too many years to go back to checking in, being watched.

Sure, the suggestions would be made kindly enough, but she'd be expected to follow. She'd be given a curfew, complete with random breath tests for alcohol done in the guise of good-night kisses.

No. No way could she do it, even if all she'd planned on drinking tonight was some hot tea. “I just realized,” she said gently. “I should be living at
the hotel for now. To immerse myself and get a real feel for the place.”

Serena's mouth fell open in dismay, most likely because she hadn't thought of it first.

Score: Kenna—1, Serena—0.