Natural Blond Instincts Page 7

  “Don’t tell me you asked her out again.”

  “Okay. I won’t tell you.”

  “Josh, let it go. She’s not your type.”

  “Hey, one of these days she’s going to realize what a catch I am.”

  Josh was the baby of the Roth family, which meant that for years, ever since Wes at age twelve had first found work washing cars to help his parents pay the rent, he’d felt responsible for his little brother. It was why he’d paid for Josh’s college, why Wes had encouraged him to come work here…but as a result of Wes paving the way for him, Josh didn’t tolerate things well. Things being…well, Serena not giving him the time of day. “Concentrate on work. You have enough of it.”

  “Is that what you do when a woman is driving you crazy?” Josh asked. “Concentrate on work?”

  “Yes.”

  Unfortunately, at the moment, like Josh, it was the woman at work driving him crazy, leaving him no respite at all.

  WES THOUGHT his date that night might give him a badly needed mental break. Irene was beautiful, sexy and fun.

  Or she had been when they’d met at a mutual friend’s party a few weeks back. But at dinner she worried about a report she’d done earlier. She kept checking her cell phone to see if it was fully charged so she wouldn’t miss any important calls. She wondered if they could stop by her office to check on something.

  When they’d met, her dedication to work had been a turn-on, but tonight Wes suddenly wished she could just…be. When they were heading toward his car after leaving the restaurant—with Irene checking through her digital organizer—she stopped walking but kept working through her schedule. “My place?”

  “Irene.”

  “Yours?” She frowned and kept her gaze glued to the small screen in her hands. “I don’t think I have time to get across town and—”

  “Irene.”

  Something in his voice finally alerted her and she looked at him. “Oh,” she said slowly. “You don’t want to…”

  “I’m sorry,” he said, while wondering if he’d lost his mind.

  He watched her walk away after they’d said their goodbyes, and pictured a different woman entirely, one with long, curly blond hair, moss-green eyes and a brilliant, shimmering smile which hid things he wondered about.

  With a sigh he went home to his bed. Alone. Where he decided to spend the rest of the weekend hang-gliding, surfing, whatever it took to take his mind off one unconventional, whimsical Kenna Mallory.

  WHILE WES was trying not to think about her, Kenna was trying not to think about him. On Saturday night, she and Ray met for Japanese food, and over sushi discussed her life.

  “Tell me everything.” Ray used his chopsticks to load his plate from their shared platter. “Everything.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like…” He waved his chopsticks in the air. “I don’t know. The important stuff.”

  “Well…” Kenna sipped her sake. “This week we’re working on quarterlies, and—”

  “The juicy stuff, darling. Come on, cough up details. What are the men wearing?”

  Kenna laughed. Ray shared her theory about color and attitude. “Black. Lots of black.”

  “Oh.”

  Ray looked so disappointed, she added, “But when I pointed out the lack of color, Wes wore a red tie one day and a light blue the next.”

  “Really.” Ray’s eyes went sharp. “How’s it going with good old Mr. Weston Roth?”

  Kenna shrugged.

  “Oh, come on, you can do better than that. What does he look like?”

  “How is that important?”

  “Baby, baby.” He tsked. “A man’s appearance tells a lot about him. Come on now, does he dress slickly or as if he never looks in a mirror? Does he stand up tall or slouch over? Does he yell at everyone when he’s frustrated or remain calm? These are the things that tell you about the guy. So spill.”

  “All right.” Kenna set her drink down and thought about Wes, which she hadn’t wanted to do that evening because thinking about him had begun to cause so many conflicted emotions within her she was feeling a little unnerved.

  And Kenna hated to be unnerved. “He dresses well, I suppose. If you like conservative.”

  Ray shrugged.

  “He definitely stands up tall and stays calm no matter what’s happening around him.”

  “Ooh.” Ray lifted a brow. “Sounds like a good match for you.”

  “Stop it.”

  “Is he mouth-watering?”

  “I’m not kidding. You’re taking away my appetite.”

  Ray laughed. “He’s mouth-watering.”

  Kenna rolled her eyes. “We’re changing the subject now—” Her cell phone rang. She looked at the caller ID and rolled her eyes again. “Why did I sign up for cell service again?”

  “Who is it?”

  “My father. My mother called yesterday. Clearly they’ve added me to their schedule, and are checking in with me in a way they haven’t since I lived with them.” She clicked the phone on. “Hello.”

  “Kenna. How’s work?”

  Right to the point. Wasn’t that just like him. “Great. I’m great, too, by the way.”

  “Terrific. You know next weekend I’m throwing my annual charity benefit. Everyone will be there. I just wanted to make sure you knew about it.”

  Next weekend she’d planned to lie on the beach and read the financials for Mallory Enterprises from the last few years. Much more fun than a fancy event. “I can’t—”

  “Not a word I want to hear, Kenna. See you then.” He hung up.

  She stared down at the phone, then tossed it into her purse with an oath.

  Ray grinned. “Good old dad. How close are you to getting back in the will?”

  “I am not working at the hotel to get back into the will, you deranged man.”

  “Why are you doing it?”

  Yes, Kenna, why are you doing it? “Because it’s challenging. And because…”

  “Because…?”

  “Because I’m good at it.”

  “Well, that’s a disappointing answer.”

  She frowned. “Why?”

  “Because, baby cakes, you should be doing it for the joy of it, for the pride, because you’re crazy about it and can’t imagine doing anything else.” He poured them both some more sake.

  “That’s why college was so much fun for you,” he said after a quick sip. “And that’s why you’ve enjoyed every job you ever had, because you were crazy about it, at least at the time.” He smiled at her. “It’s what makes you you, don’t you know that?”

  “I can be me without loving my job.”

  “You can’t be the best you that you can be.”

  Kenna laughed. “You sound like a commercial for the armed forces.”

  “I’m serious.” He pointed at her with his chopsticks. “A career requires passion. You, Kenna, you require passion.”

  She stared at him. “What?”

  “It’s true,” he said gently.

  “I’m missing my passion?”

  “Yes.”

  Oh my God, he was right. He was so right. Somehow, somewhere along the way, she’d really lost it. “How do I get it back?”

  “Well, as I see it, you can do one of two things.”

  “What?”

  “Not what. Whom.” A slow grin split his face. “You can do Wes.”

  “Ray!”

  He laughed. “Kidding. But you do have to do something. Sorry, but you just have to figure it out on your own.”

  “Gee, thanks.”

  He grinned and toasted her with his sake. “You’re ever so welcome.”

  10

  MONDAY MORNING came along with a series of meetings. Kenna hit the first one armed with coffee and the realization that Ray had been right.

  While this job excited her somewhat, and also challenged her, something was missing.

  She gulped down some serious caffeine and tried to tell herself she was wildly passionate
right this very minute. That today would be the day she left her mark on this corporation.

  She sat at the conference table as everyone filed in for the last of the ongoing renovation discussions, and told herself that she was so passionate about this that any minute now she was going to get up and high-five everyone.

  “Everything is going smoothly,” Wes said as he sat. “We have only two floors not currently ready for guests, and that’s short-term.”

  He wore a dark-gray suit today, big surprise. He looked at her through his glasses as he shrugged out of his jacket—

  Exposing bright-yellow suspenders.

  She grinned wide, and suddenly felt…a sparkle of passion.

  “The decorators and Mr. Mallory have finally agreed on all the issues, and work commences today on both floors, which, as you know, are suites.”

  Suites. Kenna knew what was missing from this hotel! “Do we have any themed suites?”

  Everyone looked at her, and she smiled. “You know, like a sports theme or a movie theme or…a food suite. You could attract families, reunions…And think what a honeymoon suite would do for honeymooners.” She was so excited. “We could do a virgin decor, or a—” she grinned “—not-so-virgin decor.”

  “I’m not sure that would fly,” Wes said.

  Kenna looked around and saw a bunch of horrified faces.

  “Our clientele—”

  “Is not into virgin decor.” She sighed. “Right. I knew that.” Kenna set her pencil down and sat back.

  And to think, she’d been bound and determined to make her mark today, one way or another. Or at least to take a solid step forward without running smack into the hard-headed, conservative wall of her father’s will.

  Not going to happen, and her passion went from sizzle to fizzle.

  THAT EVENING, Wes stopped by Kenna’s office on his way out. She watched him as he dropped a file on her desk. “What’s that?”

  “Projected expenses for next quarter. I thought you’d like to look.”

  Only more than taking her next breath. But she was tired of banging her head on the ten-foot-high brick Mallory wall. She tapped on the file. “Why should I?”

  “What do you mean why?”

  “What if something comes to me as I’m reading it? It seems to me that this place is a bit closed off to new ideas.”

  “I’m not.”

  “Please.” She barely resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

  “I’m not,” he insisted, then let out a long breath. “Okay, I resisted the thought of you working here. I admitted that to you on day one.”

  “Because you wanted this job for yourself.”

  “Damn right I did. But we’re sharing and I’m fine with that.”

  “For now.”

  “For now. Look, you’re doing your job, you’re not slacking, and I appreciate anyone who works as hard as you do,” he said.

  “Really?”

  “Yes.” He started to back out of her office. “And for what it’s worth, I liked your themed suite idea.”

  “Until I came to the honeymoon suite, you mean.”

  His eyes lit with humor. “I just didn’t think the board would approve of handcuffs and vibrating beds.”

  She lifted a brow. “I never said a word about handcuffs or vibrating beds.”

  Now his lips curved. “But you were thinking them.”

  “And, apparently, so were you.” For some reason, this made her grin, too. “Uptight, regimented, controlled Mr. Weston Roth, sitting in a meeting thinking naughty little thoughts about handcuffs and vibrating beds. You’re a very interesting man, Wes.”

  “It’s shocking, the depths to me, isn’t it?”

  Standing, she moved around her desk so they were face to face. “Shocking.”

  “And by the way…I’m not uptight.” Suddenly his voice didn’t sound board-room and even-keeled, but slightly rough and definitely silky. “The vote might still be out on the regimented and controlled part, but I’m definitely not uptight.”

  “Good to know.” She slipped a finger beneath his suspenders and snapped them lightly against his chest, which she could feel was hard and smooth.

  “You wore yellow. I’m impressed.”

  “My contribution to the splash of color for the day.” He ran a finger over her shoulder and the bright-red suit jacket she wore.

  Just that morning, standing in her hotel room in front of a mirror, she’d wondered about her need to wear something so bright, her need to stand out. What did it say about her that she expected every one else to conform and go with what she wanted, and yet she’d never considered conforming to the min any way? “I appreciate it.”

  “I know.”

  The air suddenly seemed to crackle, and unsure about that, she stepped back.

  Right into her desk.

  So did he. Right out of the office.

  “’Night,” he said. “’Night.” She didn’t take a breath until he was gone.

  LATER IN THE WEEK, Wes needed the files he’d given Kenna and, once again heading toward her office, he wondered what color she was wearing today.

  He was really losing it.

  “Can I help you?”

  Serena. Man-hunting, man-hungry, man-trapping Serena. “No. I’m just looking for—”

  “Me?” She smiled slow and inviting. “Well, I’m right here, silly. Right under your nose.”

  “Actually, I’m looking for Kenna.”

  “Oh,” she sighed. “I just saw her heading toward the elevators. I think she was going to grab lunch.”

  For whatever reason, he went after her. He had no idea why, it wasn’t like she was going to have his files on her.

  When he got out to the parking lot in the midday heat, he immediately caught sight of her.

  She was kicking her car. The back left tire to be exact. The back left flat tire.

  “It works better if you fill it instead of kicking more air out of it,” he said.

  Whirling, she looked at him, for one moment completely unguarded. Gone was the sassy, confident woman who could drive him crazy with one flash of her cocky smile. Instead, he saw things in the depths of her eyes that took him aback. Things like despair and frustration and a vulnerability he’d never imagined he’d see in this woman who seemed to have everything. “What is it?” He expected her to tell him someone had just kicked her puppy or she owed half a million in back taxes. “What’s the matter?”

  “Nothing.” Right in front of his eyes she gathered herself, managing to cloak all emotion from him in the blink of an eye. The sweet vulnerability was gone.

  “Do you need some help?” he asked.

  “I can handle this.”

  “So you know how to change a tire?”

  “No. But dealing with you takes up too much energy, and I’m fresh out.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means I don’t feel like being on, Wes. Please. Just go.”

  She didn’t want to be on? Is that what she’d been doing with him all this time? Was he just now seeing the real deal? “Kenna—”

  “Look, I’m exactly what you think I am, okay? Just a spoiled brat mooching off her father. So just go away and leave me to my spoiledness.”

  “Ah, a pity party. Yeah,” he said when she jerked her head up and glared at him. “That’s what you’re doing, you’re having a good old pity party.”

  “Yes, well, some of us are rendered pathetic by flat tires. The some of us who haven’t paid their AAA dues.”

  “I know how to change a tire.”

  “And that might help…if I had a spare.”

  He sighed. Why the hell had he come out here? “I could drive you somewhere.”

  “No.”

  He nodded slowly, then turned away. If she was determined to handle this alone, then fine. Better than fine. He’d just—

  “All right,” she said, accompanied by a loud sigh.

  He turned back to her. “All right what?”

  “All rig
ht, if you’re really determined to be a hero…” She lifted a shoulder. “I guess I could use a ride.”

  No, said his brain. God, no. Run like hell and don’t look back.

  “Yes,” said another part of him entirely. “Where to?”

  “I’ll give you directions as we go.”

  HE OPENED the door to his car for her. She’d often admired the forest-green vintage Jag that parked beside her. “Nice.”

  “You’ll notice it isn’t black.”

  She was not going to laugh with him, not today. “This won’t take long.”

  “No problem, as long as we take an extra few minutes to grab lunch.”

  That was all she’d meant to do. Get some fast food, anything as long as it was good and fattening with lots of French fries on the side.

  And also to make a quick side trip to pay back Sarah at the Teen Zone. She’d meant to do that over the weekend, yet for some reason she’d put it off. But she didn’t want to put it off anymore, she wanted to pay off all her debts, every single one.

  She glanced over at Wes, who was looking a little sorry that he’d agreed to this. “I won’t bite.”

  “Wasn’t you I was worried about,” he muttered under his breath, and pulled out of the lot. He hit the gas and the car responded like the honey it was. “Where to?”

  “A beach in the Bahamas sounds good.” She spoke lightly while her mind raced, trying to remember the way to the Teen Zone. It had been a while since she’d run out of gas in front of Sarah’s place.

  “Is that what you do to relax? Hang on a beach somewhere getting sun cancer?”

  The last time she’d actually had the time to lie around had been in her childhood, but she had fond memories of frying herself in the sun, all in the name of a tan. “Oh yeah,” she said, tongue in cheek. “I lie around on the beach all the time. Dare I ask? What would your ideal trip be?”

  “Something a little more adventurous then sun-bathing.” He downshifted for a red light. Bikinied women and buff men crossed the street, heading toward the beach.

  Kenna leaned back and looked out the window at the flawless southern California day. “You’re probably one of those.” She pointed to the crowd. “You’re the guy that buzzes the bathing queens, flinging sand during a vicious volleyball game, or maybe just blocks their view with your surfing techniques.”