Natural Blond Instincts, Page 3

  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.

  NO 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.

  4

  “I’M STAYING at the hotel,” Kenna said into her cell phone as she drove.

  “The hotel? Can I stay with you?”

  Ray was one of her closest friends. He was both a waiter and an actor, but mostly a waiter. And one of the few people who understood and accepted Kenna unconditionally. “I don’t think you heard me correctly,” she said. “I’m going to be staying in my father’s hotel.”

  “So yeah, the atmosphere is bound to be a bit stiff, but baby cakes, the place is amazing. Have you seen the furnishings?”

  “Yes, they’re overpriced and pretentious.”

  “You sound a little stressed.”

  “Just a little,” she admitted.

  “Because you’re not breathing correctly. Remember—”

  Kenna mouthed the words with him, rolling her eyes. “No one can stress me out but me. I know.”

  “That’s right, sugar. And don’t you forget it. Look, all you have to do is please Dad, right? He’ll probably give you back control of your trust fund.”

  “I don’t want a trust fund.”

  “Baby, sweetie, doll, you were born to own a trust fund.”

  Kenna laughed. “I’ve changed.”

  “Which is exactly the point of this whole thing. You’re going to take this job and do it your way. Not theirs, not the conventional, easy way, but your way. Kenna-style. Do it, girl. Show ’em.”

  “Yeah.” She smiled, and this time a deep breath worked. God, she loved this man. “You know I don’t even own a pair of stockings.”

  He laughed, but it was a warm and affectionate one. “With your legs, no stockings required. You’ll figure it all out, Kenna. You always do.”

  Yeah, she’d figure it out. But after she disconnected, her smile faded a little, because in a way she didn’t often feel, she was unsure.

  Not to mention good and lost. Damn, how had that happened? She should have paid more attention as she’d driven around, but her mind had been elsewhere. Now, she seemed far from the light, open, friendly streets she’d always known. The houses here were small and stacked nearly on top of each other. Peeling paint, barred windows, dead grass and an all-around I-don’t-give-a-shit attitude swamped her. Adding insult to injury, her car coughed, then stalled. “Hey,” she said and stared at the gauges.

  Empty.

  With a groan, she drifted to the side of the road and once again picked up her cell phone.

  But instead of a dial tone, she received a recorded message. “If you’ve enjoyed your free phone hours, please call the following one-eight-hundred number to find out just how low a monthly rate you qualify for. Don’t be without service for longer than necessary, call now.”

  “Well, isn’t that special.” She tossed the useless thing into the back seat with all the rest of the things she’d so hastily shoved in there after vacating her parents’ house, then peered out into the summer night. The street was deserted and extremely dark, except for one house.

  The sign on the porch read, Teen Zone.

  With a sigh, she heaved herself out. Warm, salty air surrounded her as she made her way up the walk.

  The teenage girl who answered the door took one look at her and laughed a bit cruelly. “Not a chance, lady. This place is for kids who need a place to go. You’re way too old.”

  “No, you don’t understand. I just—”

  “No offense, but Sarah will just send you to the shelter for hookers. It’s down the street and around the corner. Get outta here.”

  “Tess!” A woman appeared in the doorway beside the teenager. “Sweetie, that’s not the way I taught you to answer the door.”

  The girl hunched her shoulders. “Sorry.”

  The tall, serene woman, who possibly owned the most calming voice Kenna had ever heard, gave Tess an admonishing look but gently squeezed the girl’s hand. “We’re here to help, remember? Not judge. Never judge.” She held out a hand to Kenna. “I’m Sarah.”

  Kenna automatically took her hand. It was as warm as her expression and demeanor, and while Kenna appreciated it, she was no charity case. “I’m Kenna. I’m just out of gas. I was wondering if I could use your phone?”

  Sarah smiled, and it was a generous one. “Of course. But I’ve got a five-gallon can in the garage, if you’d rather. I can spare you enough to get where you need to. Come in. Take a load off.”

  Kenna took in the pitying look, then glanced down at herself, suddenly realizing how she must appear to them. Hair that probably looked as though she’d stuck her finger in a light socket, as it tended to do after a long day. Dress still sans jacket and blatantly sexy, to say the least. Shoes, unquestionably hookerville. So she had a secret slutty side, she couldn’t help it. “Look,” she said. “I can pay you—”

  “No. No, it’s okay.” Sarah pulled her inside, where a delicious scent engulfed her.

  Brownies? Kenna would pay big bucks for brownies.

  If she had big bucks.

  “As Tess said, this is a teen center for kids who need the escape, but I’d never turn anyone away.”

  Sarah smiled. “Especially a lone woman at night in an area like this one.”

  Kenna would have laughed, but it might have been a half-hysterical one, so she bit it back. “Honestly. I can pay.”

  “Okay.” Amicably, Sarah led her through a living room that was small and short on furniture, but long on coziness. The walls were a faded yellow, or maybe that was just age. The couch, a well-worn red, had definitely seen its heyday, but looked comfortable enough. There were a bunch of folding chairs and a stack of magazines, as well as a television set with a dial. The seventies revisited all around.

  There were several teenagers lounging around talking or watching a show, each of whom glanced over with a disinterested expression.

  Sarah took Kenna to the kitchen, which didn’t look any more modern than the living room had. Here the walls were green and the cabinets didn’t have fronts. The lovely seventies again. But the brownies on a plate on the scarred Formica table looked new and mouth-watering. Sarah pointed to them. “Would you like one?”

  Only more than her next breath, but she didn’t want to be any more indebted. “No,” she said regretfully. “I need to get going.”

  Sarah nodded, seeming both
serene and sad. “You don’t have to, Kenna. No one has to. As Tess said, I could give you the address of a wonderful women’s shelter.”

  “Thank you. You’re very kind, but I think you’ve misunderstood—”

  “Just remember we’re here.” Sarah led her through the back door to the garage for the gas, then walked out front with her. “And I’m always available if you need an ear, or help out of something too big to handle on your own.”

  “Honestly, I’m not a prostitute. I’m not even on my own, not really. I—” She stopped short at the look on Sarah’s face and followed the woman’s gaze to her car.

  The back of the faded silver Civic was overloaded with the mess she’d made when she’d decided to stay at the hotel. As usual when an idea grabbed her, she’d just acted on it. Without organizing, she’d collected her things, shoving all of it into the back seat. Dresses, shoes, makeup bag, blow dyer, more clothes, more shoes, a stuffed teddy bear from her childhood, you name it, it was back there, overflowing from her suitcases, making it look as though she lived out of the back seat of her car. “This isn’t what it looks like. I just—”

  “Oh Kenna, you don’t ever have to pretend here.” Slipping a hand around her waist, Sarah hugged her. “We’ve all been down on our luck at some point, so just forget about the gas money, okay?”

  “No, really. I can pay.” Thrilled to be able to do this at least, Kenna reached in for her purse, which unfortunately, was also a big mess, but when she opened her wallet she remembered she hadn’t stopped at the bank. Not that there was much in her account at the moment, but—

  Sarah put her hand over Kenna’s on the wallet. “It’s on me.”

  Kenna looked into the woman’s extraordinarily caring eyes and felt a lump clog her throat. “I’ll be back,” she said rashly. “With money, I promise.”

  “You don’t need money here.”

  “I want to repay you.”

  Sarah smiled, a warm, giving, generous one that made Kenna wonder when the last time she herself had given that sort of smile to someone. Well, there’d been that cute guy at TGIF’s last week, but other than that…she couldn’t remember.