Natural Blond Instincts

Why that touched her, she had no idea, but it did. It touched her and took her completely off guard. Clearly she’d been feeling a little more vulnerable than she could have imagined. But she hadn’t gone with the waterproof mascara this morning so she bucked up. Besides, it was one thing to have a bad or weak moment, another entirely to show it.

“In particular,” he said. “I’ve got employee contracts and union demands. We’re meeting with the reps in an hour to discuss strategies, so you might want to hustle.”

The lump turned to pure irritation. An hour? She could never-

“Can you get it together?”

“Of course,” she said, her nose so high in the air she risked a nosebleed.

Wes gestured to her still-closed office. “Did you pick this one?”

“Serena did.”

His dark-blue eyes, deep and mysterious behind his glasses, gave nothing away, nothing except a small glimmer of amusement. “You two are close then, huh?”

“Like this.” She lifted two fingers, entwined. “So…we’re working on employee contracts today.”

“Just this morning. By eleven we’ll be going over the financial statements. Quarterlies just came in.”

Great, she’d be in her element, as opposed to this morning and the union work, which she knew nothing about. Yikes. She’d have to speed-read, she’d have to- Her thoughts scattered away when she realized he was staring at her. Specifically, her mouth. “Um…what? Do I have crumbs on my face or something?”

“Nothing.” He looked away.

And she found herself looking at his mouth. Firm and…well, downright sexy if she was being honest.

Whoa. She had no idea where that completely inappropriate thought had come from. He was a suit. He was a Mallory drone. He was completely and totally not for her.

Ever.

“Okay, listen.” He took a step closer, pinning her with nothing more than his sharp eyes and the feel of his big, beautiful body nearly brushing hers. “Did something weird just happen?”

“No.” She shook her head. “Absolutely not.”

He looked at her for a long moment. “You’re right. It was nothing.”

She managed a smile. “Look at that, our third agreement. This is going to be a piece of cake.”

His mouth curved. “Cake, huh?”

Oh, boy, he had a smile. It went straight to her good spots, which hello, hadn’t been heard from in a while. It made her own smile freeze.

“Don’t do that,” he said quietly. “Don’t over-think it. It was nothing. Remember that.”

“And even if it wasn’t nothing, I’m good at discipline. I can eat just one cookie or even one chip and resist-”

“I’m not a cookie, Kenna. Or a chip.”

She couldn’t help it, she laughed, thinking a cookie and a delicious-looking man weren’t really all that different.

“Terrific.” He let out a frustrated breath. “Look, I don’t suppose you can not laugh? Ever?”

Slowly, fighting a smile, she shook her head.

“Yeah.” A muscle in his jaw ticked.

Interesting. Also a little unsettling. She tugged his red tie. “Was this for me, Wes?”

His dark, dark eyes were inscrutable as they roamed her face. “Maybe I just needed a splash of color.” He leaned past her and opened the door.

Of course he smelled fantastic. And she had to work not to snuggle in and breathe deep of his woodsy scent. Oh brother, what was the matter with her today? Had it been that long since a man had looked at her?

Yes, she had to admit. Her last boyfriend had taught yoga and had been so low-key, so relaxed, she’d often put a hand over his mouth and nose in bed to make sure he was still breathing.

He hadn’t even realized when she’d left him.

He probably still hadn’t realized.

To distance herself, she walked into her new office, if it could be called an office. The place was spotless, she’d give it that. And smaller than a postage stamp. Seriously, the place was too small to be a closet. The chrome desk took up the entire floor, so much so that when two women and a man tried to follow them in-Ms. Needs Highlights, Mr. Bad Tie and a woman Kenna hadn’t met-each with their arms full of various files and computer reports, they had to crowd in the doorway rather than come in.

“Ms. Mallory, here’s the conferencing schedule for the week-”

“Ms. Mallory, I’ve got subcontractor contracts for you to go over-”

“Ms. Mallory, I have-”

Head spinning, Kenna held up a hand. She looked around the place and shook her head. Serena had definitely gotten her.

New score: Serena-1, Kenna-1.

Wes stepped up. “I’ll talk to Serena-”

“No,” she said firmly, not wanting to give Serena any extra reasons to deal with Wes. That alone made so little sense, she shook the thought off. “I’ll handle it.” With a deep breath, she looked at the employees waiting to hand her stacks of…stuff. She’d had classes in both management and hotel management, she’d grown up on bedtime stories about the hotel industry, but for the first time it truly hit her that she had no practical experience. The urge to panic nearly overcame her. Calming images, she could hear Ray telling her. Calming images. She was in a boat, on a beautiful ocean bay…

With a leak. “Lay it on me,” she said, and held out her hands.

In less than sixty seconds, they’d left her a mountain of paperwork and had vanished.

She looked at Wes.

He looked at her. “You should know, I told them to bring you those files.”

“Did you think it would make me run for the hills?”

He looked her over. “Are you feeling the urge to run?”

“Hell, no.” She fingered the files. “And I should tell you, I’m not feeling scared either.”

“What are you feeling?”

“Very, very competitive.” She smiled. “I’m going to do this, Wes.”

“So you’ve said.”

“I’m sorry if you thought this job would be yours alone, but I’m not sorry I’m here.”

Before he could respond to that, her phone started ringing.

“I don’t think an assistant has been assigned to you yet.” Wes reached for the phone.

She pushed his hand aside and got it herself. “Kenna Mallory,” she answered, but the phone kept ringing. She realized her phone had three lines and each of them were going off. She listened to some harassed duty manager start to ramble on about a celebrity wanting to redecorate her suite with her own artwork.

“Can you hold?” Kenna clicked on to the other line and was rewarded with a housekeeping manager ranting about the scheduling mix-up and how she needed authorization to call in off-duty help. “Hold please.”

By the time she got to line three, the person had either hung up or been transferred to depths unknown.

“What do you have?” Wes asked.

“Nothing I can’t handle.” She looked pointedly toward the door.

“Oh, you want to be on your own.”

“I do pretty good on my own.” She punched line one. “Hello. Tell the celebrity she can bring in any artwork she’d like as long as she doesn’t mar the walls or damage any artwork currently in her room.” She punched line two. “Call in whatever help you need to get through the shift.” She hung up the phone and looked at Wes.

“The celebrity should have been told no,” he said.

“Maybe he or she has been on tour and is homesick, and needs a piece of home,” she said.

“Maybe they’re just spoiled rotten.”

“We’re here to serve, Wes.”

“Is that why you approved the extra staff? Which, by the way, will cost time and a half.”