Natural Blond Instincts (9 page)

U
NDER THE GLOW
of the harsh lights, Kenna's cheeks glowed. With heat, embarrassment…Wes had no idea, but he couldn't stop looking at her.

“It's just a magazine,” she said. “I subscribe. It means nothing, honestly. In fact, I read all the articles. Here, look, I just finished this one—” She flipped through the magazine. “See? Right here. ‘How to Get Your Yoga Instructor to Fall for You', and I don't even have a yoga instructor.”

Then she backed away from the island, doing nothing to get rid of the chocolate on her mouth.

He stared at her lips and reminded himself that eating that chocolate off her mouth would be a very bad move. A very, very bad move. “We need to talk.”

“I don't know, I really had my heart set on eating this cake.”

“Kenna…what are we doing?”

“I don't know about you, but I'm eating. I heard
this thing calling my name all the way from my hotel room.”

“Kenna.”

“Look…why do you care?”

“That you were eating cake? I don't. Why do I care that you stay in an office that was never meant for you? That one I'm not sure about. Or that you're trying so hard at this job, harder than half our employees, which I've got to tell you, is impossibly attractive. I haven't a clue, Kenna, not a single one.”

She stared at him as if
he'd
lost his mind, not her. “My office is fine.”

“Are you staying there because you think you deserve it? Because if you are, damn, Kenna…”

“You don't understand. You were born for this job.”

“And you were born into it. It doesn't matter.”

“Why are you being so nice?”

“I'm always nice.”

“On my second day in this job, you gave me less than an hour to get up to speed with the union stuff. Was that nice?”

“It was reality. And now the reality is that you're here, and so am I, and we're dealing with it. Together.”

“Together,” she whispered. “What else are we
going to do together?” She stared at his mouth and made him hard.

But he took a big step back, and a bigger mental one. “Right,” she said, shuttering her eyes from him. “This is about work.”

“Yeah. Goodnight, Kenna,” he said quietly.

“Sweet dreams.”

A rough laugh escaped him. “Trust me, there will be nothing sweet about my dreams tonight.”

 

T
HE WEEK
flew by for Kenna and suddenly it was Friday. Later tonight was her father's big annual charity event. All the employees were expected to make a showing, and seeing as the night always raised tens of thousands of dollars for various children's charities across the county, Kenna couldn't complain.

Needing some time to herself first, she actually took a few hours off work. She felt the need to get out, to drive, to walk through Old Town or Balboa Park, where she could wander through the science museum and lose herself. Or even just stand on the beach and breathe, if only for a few minutes before having to come back and stuff herself into a fancy dress and make nice.

She hit the coast first, loving the cool breeze, the salty air. Ocean Beach, her teen hangout, was packed. She got out and started walking through the sand, wanting to put her toes in the water, but everywhere she looked she saw youth and wealth and beauty sprawled out.

No one appeared to have a single issue, a single problem in their life, and even though she knew it was an illusion that it was all sun and games and vacation here for these people on this glorious summer day, it left her yearning to be somewhere else, where life wasn't so pretty, where it was more complicated, more…real.

She got back into her car and drove to the Teen Zone.

There were two girls in the yard talking. One held a lit cigarette. They weren't tanned and pretty and full of zest and exuberance, as she'd seen only moments ago at the beach. Instead they seemed hard and tired. They wore jeans snug in the butt, too long in the leg and so low on their hips Kenna couldn't imagine what kept them up. Each wore a handkerchief top that didn't come close to meeting the waistband of the jeans. One of them had a tattoo of a fern low on her spine, making it look as if she had a plant growing out of her butt. Kenna felt too old to
understand why that would appeal. Both had pierced eyebrows, upper lips and chins.

Neither smiled.

Music poured out the windows of the house, where there were probably more surly, untrusting, tattooed, pierced, attitude-ridden teens.

And Sarah dealt with this every day.

Here was life, here was reality, and not understanding what drove her, Kenna got out of the car. Strange as it seemed, she understood these girls, not because she'd had to scrape by just to survive in her youth. Everyone knew she hadn't. No, she under stood because they didn't fit in, and neither did she.

Two insolent gazes met hers as she entered the yard.

Kenna offered a smile. “Hi.”

They looked at each other first before reacting. “Hey,” one of them said reluctantly.

The other just looked at her.

“Is Sarah here?” Kenna asked.

“Yes, and she already knows I'm smoking,” Tat too Crack said, but she dropped the cigarette and ground her heel into it. She looked down at the thing a little guiltily before squatting down to dig a hole in the dirt. She then dropped the used cigarette into it, and carefully covered it back up.

Kenna met her gaze.

“She really does know,” the girl said, straightening, shoving her hands into her back pockets.

As one who'd seriously tested the adults in her life at this age, Kenna nodded sagely. “Sure.”

The girl narrowed her gaze, looking for all the world like a young child trying to be a grown woman. “You're laughing at me.”

“Nope. If you want to kill yourself, go right ahead.”

“Kill myself? Oh, Christ, you're not referring to those stupid commercials.”

“I guess I am.”

“They don't know what they're talking about. If smoking is so bad, they should make it illegal.”

Kenna shook her head. “Should they make every thing bad for you illegal? Because I gotta admit, I'd miss double mochas, caramel popcorn and cheesy omelets.”

“What?”

“Caffeine and salt and cholesterol are killers, too.”

“That's just stupid.”

“Yeah. But I figure the only way you could possibly not believe smoking kills is if you live in a hole like the one you just buried your cigarette in.”
Kenna smiled. “You know, the one Sarah knew you were smoking.”

The other girl snickered.

“Whatever,” said the smoker brilliantly.

“Nice comeback,” Kenna said.

“Are you saying I'm dumb?”

Kenna lifted a shoulder. “Did you hear the word
dumb
come out of my mouth?”

“She only smokes to impress Ricky,” the other girl said, rolling her eyes when the smoker chick sent her a bad look. “It's not like a habit or anything. She's been walking around with that pack for three months hoping he'll catch her with it.”

“Hey!”

“It's true, Lyssa.”

“Ricky sounds like the dumb one,” Kenna said.

“And anyway, who'd want to impress a guy who smokes?”

“Well, he's cute,” Lyssa said slowly.

“Have you ever kissed a smoker?” Kenna shuddered. “Serious bad breath.”

Sarah opened the front door. “Kenna!” As if they were old friends, she came down the walk smiling, arms held out.

“I'm not out of gas,” Kenna said into Sarah's hair
as she found herself wrapped in a bear hug. “I have no idea why I'm here. I was just out driving and—”

“And you found yourself here, talking to two of my favorite trouble-makers, Lyssa and Debbie.” She smiled at the teen girls, both of whom gave their version of a smile, meaning they bared their teeth.

“Kenna told us smokers kiss gross,” Debbie said.

“I said they
taste
gross,” Kenna corrected, embarrassed to have been caught discussing anything remotely sexual with teenagers. Sarah would probably be annoyed, as Kenna hadn't any right, but Sarah just nodded very seriously.

“Not only do they taste bad to others,” she said. “Eventually you lose your own sense of taste entirely.”

Lyssa looked horrified. “Really?”

“Really. I just put some snacks out in the kitchen.

Help yourself girls, while you can still taste.”

“Ricky is
so
out of luck,” Lyssa whispered to Debbie on their way inside.

Sarah laughed and hugged Kenna again. “I've been trying to get her to stop carrying those things around for months. You just might have accomplished it in one day. Come on in.”

“I can't.” It was time to put on a pair of stockings and make nice for her father.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I just came by to…” She lifted a shoulder and laughed at herself. “Say hi.”

“Well, hi. Come back when you can stay longer. I have a bunch of other kids you can fix for me.”

“I told you, I'm no role model.”

“And I told you, you're wrong. Anyone can help, if they care enough. I'm pretty sure you care enough, Kenna.”

“Sarah—”

“Just answer me this. Why did you come today?”

“To remember how stupid teenagers are?”

Sarah laughed. “They're wonderful, aren't they?”

Yeah. They were roughed up, screwed up and angry as hell, but they were wonderful.

And passionate.

Or maybe that's how she felt, passionate, in their presence, in a way she hadn't felt since she'd come to San Diego and Mallory Enterprises.

God, she hated it when Ray was right.

 

K
ENNA HUSTLED
into the huge ballroom, cringing a little because she was late. Late, late, late for an important date.

Dinner had already begun.

As if God had a sense of irony, the only seat left
was right next to Serena, and directly across from the man who'd headlined her chocolate-cake fantasies the night before, so much so that she'd vowed off chocolate before bedtime.

At the other end of the table, her father glanced at his watch when she sat down.

Her mother looked slightly annoyed.

Serena tsked.

Wes just looked at her, with who knew what going through his head.

And Kenna fought the urge to keep running.

But she was a Mallory. Running wasn't an option. Screaming maybe, later, but for right now she smiled and sat.

“Well, doesn't someone think they're special,” Serena muttered out of the side of her mouth.

Kenna ignored her and reached for her wineglass. She was going to need it.

“You did get the memo that said formal, right?” Serena eyed Kenna's dress. Short, shimmering and gold, it could have worked on a beach or a café or anywhere in her old life, but to a charity event…apparently not.

“Never mind.” Serena shrugged. “It leaves more attention for me. You're going to lose, you know that, right?”

“Lose what?”

“What. The man across from you, that's what.”

Kenna looked at Wes, who looked incredible in his tux. “This isn't a competition.”

Serena laughed, her light, frothy, fake laugh. “Oh, honey. Don't mess with the queen. Watch this.” She affixed an innocent look on her face. “I'll get his attention right now, right this minute. I'm…slipping off my shoe and…”

Wes nearly jerked out of his seat.

Casually, ignoring his shock, Serena lifted her wine to her mouth and whispered behind it to Kenna. “I just put my toes on his thigh. I was going for his lap but you're in the better spot for that.” She slid down another inch. “There, now I can— Oh my,
someone's
built impressively.”

Wes jerked again and glared at…
Kenna.

Horrified, Kenna stared at her cousin. “Stop it. He thinks it's me.”

“Christ, men are so stupid.” Serena tried to catch Wes's eyes, but he was busy staring in shock at Kenna.

Kenna busied herself with her plate of food, even though the wait staff appeared to clear the dishes. Around her, everyone headed toward the dance
floor, but she grabbed her plate and held on to it to keep it from being whisked away.

“I'd like a word with you.”

Wes, of course. He'd come around the table. “Um…” She looked at her plate full of delicious food.

He wrapped his fingers around her arm and started to pull.

“I'm pretty hungry, Wes.”

“Now.”

Kenna started shoveling garlic mashed potatoes into her mouth. Maybe the garlic would protect her. “I'm eating right now, but—”

“
Now,
Kenna.”

Since he'd already turned and stalked toward the door of the ballroom, she sighed.
“Thanks a lot,”
she hissed to Serena on her way out.

Serena watched Wes leave. “Oh, shut up.”

“Wait a minute.” Kenna laughed. “You're mad at me because he thought the toe thing was
me?
And I thought
I
needed therapy.” With that, she followed Wes out of the ballroom, intending to tell him exactly what she thought of his interrupting her dinner when it was Serena who'd done the toe thing, only to be roughly grabbed by the wrist and pulled into…a storage room?

The place was dark, made darker still when the furious Wes—at least she hoped to God it was Wes—slammed the door, pressed her back against the wall, holding her there in the complete dark with his warm, rugged,
hard
body.

“What the hell was that?” he demanded.

Definitely Wes.

“You're driving me crazy, Kenna.” Hands cupped her face. “Looking at me as if you want to gobble me up, making me so hot I can't see straight. Touching me—”