Natural Blond Instincts Read online

  But playing time was over. For days she’d been working, refusing to allow herself to delete a thing. She’d added up everything she’d considered wrong with the acquisition—the bonuses, for example—and then come up with what she considered better uses of that money, such as on-site daycare, referral services for various counseling needs and additional benefits such as employee discounts at sister hotels in other cities. She researched those costs and other choices as well.

  On the morning before they all left for Los Angeles, Serena poked her head into Kenna’s office, looked around at the small, cramped space and shuddered. “You really do need a designer.”

  “Hey, you’re the one who gave me this space.”

  “It was a joke, dear cousin. You were supposed to get all pissy and demand a bigger place, and generally be a pain in your father’s ass so he’d think you weren’t worth the time he’d given you.”

  “Ah.” Kenna couldn’t quite help her smile. “Bummer that I didn’t fall in line then, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, so would you start paying attention while I’m manipulating you? Are you ready to go to L.A. or what?”

  Kenna carefully gathered her papers and stapled them together. She was officially finished. “Yes.”

  “You should know, tonight is the night I plan to try to coax Wes into bed. I requested a suite with a hot tub. Ever had sex in a hot tub?”

  As Kenna didn’t care who Wes slept with, she firmly contributed her sudden stomachache to hunger. “Nope.”

  “It’s an amazing experience.”

  Okay, she cared. Slapping down her stapler, she looked up into Serena’s smug face. “And I want to hear this because?”

  “Because you’re not getting sex in a hot tub tonight.”

  “What about Josh?”

  Serena’s smile vanished. “What about him?”

  “I think there’s something between you two.”

  “Bite your tongue. He’s a computer nerd.”

  “He’s smart and funny. You’d be good for each other. You’d soften his rough edges and he’d—” He’d soften yours. “He’d love you just as you’ve always wanted to be loved.”

  “You’ve been drinking, right? A little Bloody Mary with breakfast?”

  “I mean it.”

  Serena took a step backward. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “I’ve seen you, Serena, when you didn’t realize…and you know what? You watch him. He watches you, too.”

  Looking shell-shocked, Serena sank to a chair. “He wouldn’t give me the time of day.”

  “Are you on crack? The guy has a serious crush, Serena.”

  “But…I’ve not been particularly kind.”

  “Well, start.”

  “But I like my not-particularly-kind self.” Serena stood. “Besides, we’re not suited at all, of course we’re not. Wes is the man for me.”

  She was gone before Kenna could say a word, not that she’d say the only words that might have stopped her cousin.

  The words that said maybe, just maybe, Wes was the man for Kenna.

  KENNA ENTERED the fabulous Los Angeles Mallory two hours later, at eleven o’clock. The place was a palace of glass and exotic plants, with amazing lighting, and again, the trademark antiques everywhere.

  But Kenna didn’t see any of that as she checked in. Because her report was burning a hole in her bag, and because the meeting wasn’t until four, she asked which room Wes was in. Then she dropped her things off in her room—all except her report—and immediately went back out again. It was time to talk to him.

  In front of Wes’s door, she drew in a deep breath, glanced at her watch and knocked.

  “Hang on,” he said through his door. After a minute it opened a crack. No glasses in sight, he peered out, squinting. “Kenna?”

  He wore only a towel, which was a bit of a shock. His hair and body were damp. A drop of water ran down his throat to his chest. Another drop slid over his ribs to the flattest belly she’d ever seen, dipping into his belly button before continuing its trail lower, disappearing into the towel to regions hidden.

  At the thought of those regions, her knees actually knocked together.

  And she forgot all about her report. Forgot why she stood there, tongue hanging out.

  Stay on track. His body—perfect as it was—was not the issue. But suddenly she forgot the issue altogether.

  Luckily he hadn’t forgotten anything. He looked at the papers in her hand. “What’s that?”

  She forced her eyes upward, past his body and into his eyes. “Um…”

  “Your report? You finally going to let me look at it? Well, come on in, then.”

  He hadn’t unpacked, his bag was on the floor in the bathroom, which was still steamy from his shower. She tossed the report to the dresser. “Sorry to catch you at a bad time. Wes—”

  “What?”

  “Um…” she tried not to look at him and failed. “Seeing you half naked is weird.”

  “Weird like ‘yuck put your clothes on’ or weird like ‘whoa, baby, I don’t think I can keep my hands off you’?”

  She laughed. How was it he always made her laugh? “Definitely choice B.”

  He looked at her, squinted, then grabbed his glasses. As he put them on, their gazes caught in the mirror over the dresser. Caught and held.

  “Okay,” he said. “And now here’s another multiple choice question. Is this A, pure lust, or B, mingled in with say…a general affection?”

  She lifted her gaze from his chest. “Again, I have to go with B.”

  He smiled, and it made her so dizzy she backed up, looking for a seat. Her thighs hit the mattress and she sank to it.

  He took another step and his legs bumped her knees.

  He didn’t look like an important, successful VP at the moment, he looked like a bronzed, pagan god. His chest had a patch of dark hair that looked soft. She wanted to touch. His thighs were taut and powerful. She wanted to touch them, too.

  And between them, at just her eye level, behind the white towel, was an interesting bulge that made her mouth go dry.

  “Just one more question.” He bent over her, putting his free hand—the one not holding up his towel—against her right hip, caging her in with his broad shoulders, his beautiful, rugged face on a plane with hers.

  If he straightened, she’d be just about mouth level with his—

  Don’t go there.

  “Are you enjoying the view? Wishing you were wearing just a towel, too?”

  “All of the above,” she whispered. His eyes were dark and full of such heat. She knew hers were, too, and also surprise because maybe she’d been blind, but she hadn’t expected to feel like this about him.

  Or maybe, more honestly, she’d known it all along and just hadn’t wanted to admit it.

  “I’m sure as hell enjoying the view,” he whispered. “Of you on my bed.” He tossed his glasses aside. Apparently he didn’t need to see for this. His hands cupped her face, tilted it up for his mouth, which she met more than halfway.

  A part of her wanted to look down, to see if his towel had slipped away, but then his tongue met hers, danced in a rhythm that made her hips arch up, seeking that contact with his. She wanted this, craved it and reached for him.

  He kissed her again and again, stealing what little breath she had left. His mouth was as firm as the rest of him, and when he finally lifted his head, she was halfway to orgasmic bliss, from just a kiss. Needing his hands back on her, needing him deep inside her, she squirmed, but he just looked at her.

  So she bit the hard sinew of his shoulder.

  “That way, then?” he murmured, and she found herself flat on her back, arms over her head, staring up into one hundred and eighty pounds of aroused muscle.

  “Um…hi,” she said.

  “Hi. You wanted me to hurry?” He dipped his head to her breast.

  “Yes, please.”

  “I don’t like to rush.” Through the silk of her blouse, he