Natural Blond Instincts Read online

  “You could come back and volunteer sometime,” Sarah said. “We always need help.”

  “Okay, sure…” Working at a senior’s center was one thing. Volunteering with sullen teens? She’d rather have root-canal surgery. She got into her car, waved when Sarah did, and drove off.

  But she couldn’t get the place, or Sarah, out of her head. The woman gave kindly to strangers, without strings. So utterly different than the world Kenna was driving to, and unexpectedly, the joy she’d found earlier in the records room of the hotel faded a little.

  Sarah’s world, riddled with poverty and injustice, suddenly seemed much more like the place for her, a place where she could make a difference, have an impact, put her ideas into action…

  But six months was six months, and she’d promised her father.

  She just really wished she’d at least taken the offered brownie.

  5

  WES PLAYED three-on-three basketball every Monday night. They played hard and won hard, and when tonight’s game was over, his team was only two victories away from becoming the rec-center league champions.

  And two aspirins away from pain relief. He walked to the parking lot with his teammates, each of them trying not to whimper at their various aches and pains. Victors didn’t whimper. Men on top of their world didn’t whimper.

  But, oh God, he wanted to.

  “Heading to the pub, Wes?” his buddy, Nick, asked him.

  The pub was where they ended up more often than not after a game. There, they either celebrated or commiserated, depending on how the game had gone.

  Tonight, there’d be a lot of celebrating, and for a moment, he was tempted. But duty called so he shook his head. “I have to head back to the office.”

  This was accompanied by boos and hisses, but as his teammates Nick and Steve were a doctor and an attorney respectively, who both put in even more hours than he did, he laughed them off.

  He drove to the hotel and parked in his designated spot, noting the one next to him had a freshly painted sign that read Ms. Kenna Mallory. At least it was vacant.

  The corporate floors were deserted. He’d given everyone the night off, including himself, but now that the hard play was over and some of his aggressions had been released, he wanted to get some work done. Especially since he’d spent most of the day soothing hurt egos and ruffled feathers. People resented the intrusion of Kenna Mallory at such a high level.

  Serena had been the most upset, a situation that gave him mixed feelings. She was a junior conference manager, and reported directly to him, and though she was decent at her job, he’d always felt she had more ambition than actual skill. Given the way she’d gone on and on today, she’d forgotten that she, too, had once been given her job because of her last name. No entry-level positions for Mallory family members.

  Either way, he hoped she’d gotten all her whining and pouting out of her system, because when Serena was on a rant, everyone around her paid.

  He sank to his desk and dug in. He loved his work, but he loved his time off as well, and wanted to make sure he got some this weekend, since he actually had a date and was looking forward to a few hours of mindless fun. He looked forward to everything he did these days, because though it had been years since he’d struggled to make something of himself, he’d never forgotten his humble beginnings.

  With his current salary several times over what he needed, he was able to do pretty much whatever he wanted. Since he wasn’t a frivolous man or one who needed luxuries, this mostly involved extreme sports or spoiling his family when they let him—buying his parents a house, sending them on vacations they’d never dreamed they’d be able to take, getting his brother through college—

  A blur of creamy skin, blond hair and an unforgettable fuchsia skirt passed his opened office door. He glanced at his watch. Ten o’clock.

  What the hell?

  Standing, he rounded his desk to peek out, but yep, it was indeed Kenna Mallory’s very fine back side wriggling its way down the hallway, her bare feet in those strappy little sandals that seemed suicidal to him.

  “So you’re not just a nightmare,” he called out, half hoping she’d vanish.

  Slowly she stopped, then pivoted to face him, her arms full of a variety of bags, all of which were overflowing with what looked like…stuff. Even as he watched, the blow dryer she’d slung over her shoulder started to slip. “It’s not late enough for night mares.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Maybe you missed the Mallory part of the San Diego Mallory.”

  “I meant,” he said dryly, “what are you doing in the offices this late?”

  “I wanted to grab some nighttime reading material before checking in—” She broke off to growl in frustration as things started tumbling from her arms.

  Wes scooped up the bag, but not in time to keep it from spilling out a magazine, a lipstick case, a styling comb, a compact mirror, a tube of mascara and two tampons.

  Hunkering down to help, he deliberately avoided touching the tampons and scooped up the magazine instead. Outside. This city girl read an adventure magazine? “I wouldn’t have pegged you for an Outside kind of girl.”

  “You couldn’t peg me for anything—” she snatched it back “—as you don’t know the first thing about me. And there happens to be a great article this month on relaxing beach vacations,” she relented. “If that matters to you.”

  Unfortunately just about everything relating to her was going to matter to him, since they were likely going to be joined at the hip for a while, until some other more appealing job came along and she fluttered off.

  On her knees, she started gathering things, tossing them back into the bag. “And anyway, at least until we establish some sort of routine…one that’ll keep us from killing each other—” she pointed at him with the article in her hand, a tampon “—just get used to seeing me around.” She stopped and stared at the tampon, then glared at him as if it was his fault she was using it like a pointer.

  “What makes you think we’re going to kill each other?” he asked curiously.

  She laughed. “Are you saying you’re welcoming me with open arms?”

  “I plan on welcoming you as I would any employee.”

  “Well, isn’t that a politically correct answer.”

  “Look, Ms. Mallory—”

  “Kenna. My name is Kenna.”

  “Kenna.” He picked up some of her loose change and handed it to her. “I think we can do this in a friendly manner.”

  “What? Vie for the next rung on the ladder?”

  Okay, he probably deserved that. Maybe he’d been a bit stiff earlier. “I’m just saying we’re stuck in this position together, and—”

  “I’m not stuck. I’m never stuck. I do as I please, when I please, and working here pleases me.”

  “For the moment.”

  She froze in the act of stretching for a rogue pen, her skirt rising incredibly high on a tanned, toned thigh, reminding him that she didn’t favor stockings. And being the weak male that he was, he wondered if her panties were as bright as the rest of her clothes. Like he needed to know that information.

  “Look,” she said. “I’m taking this job seriously. So do me a favor and take me seriously. Oh, and by the way, I’m…moving in.”

  When the words sank in, he raised his gaze to meet her unhappy one. “What?”

  “I’m going to be staying here. At the hotel.”

  Wes didn’t often find himself rendered speechless, but somehow he wasn’t surprised to find Kenna the woman to do it. “Why?”

  “Because that also pleases me.” She paused then muttered under her breath, “and it’s the lesser of two evils.”

  “Your father said you had to, right?”

  “Of course not.”

  “What did he do, threaten to cut off your credit card?”

  If he’d been any closer, her look would have fried him on the spot. “I don’t care about his money.”

  “