Natural Blond Instincts

prove she could manage on her own. She’d been the principled, idealistic rebel, an activist on campus staging sit-ins at the administrative building whenever she thought an injustice had been committed.

She’d horrified her parents on a weekly basis, but because they’d already overplayed their hand by cutting off the money, they were powerless to do anything about her actions. With such freedom in front of her, she’d never looked back, not until the day she’d graduated.

Granted, she’d graduated by the skin of her teeth, at a far less prestigious school than her parents had planned on, but she had finished. She’d done it on her own, grooming poodles, doing the aforementioned “slinging beer,” mopping up at K-Mart, you name it, she’d done it for the little luxuries like food and tuition. She’d done it because she’d wanted to, and because she figured her parents had not expected her to. They probably had planned for her to last a week-two, tops-without their financial support. Then, when she came begging for money, they could have pulled out the Mallory family rule book, forced her to agree to follow said rules in exchange for that support and signed the whole deal…in blood. One more time their rebel daughter had not performed according to plan.

Her father had tried to get her to work for Mallory Enterprises after graduation. Pick one of our hotels, he’d told her. Take an entry-level position and learn the ropes.

It had been a decent idea. After all, she’d studied the hotel industry in college, but the bottom line was that their ideologies clashed. Her parents were conservative fiscally and socially, whereas she was about as liberal as you could get.

They thought in terms of dollars.

She thought in terms of people. She believed minimum wage should be high enough that everyone could live without hunger and poverty. They’d like to see minimum wage abolished.

Clash, clash, clash.

“You’re ready for this now,” her father said. “Taking over this newest acquisition for us is just the beginning for you at Mallory Enterprises. Admit it, you love business the way your mother loves performing surgery. You’ll be a natural.”

“I don’t have the image.”

“You’re a Mallory, aren’t you?”

“Maybe I meant physical image.” She certainly could have meant that. At fifty-eight, her father defined elegant and sophisticated, a self-made man who had turned a small fortune into millions. Her mother could have passed for a young Audrey Hepburn…who just happened to be a brilliant surgeon.

And then there was Kenna. An untamed blonde. A good six inches taller than her parents and stacked to boot. Her Saxon looks were a throwback to the grandmother she’d never gotten to meet.

“I understand there will be a learning curve,” her father said, most likely referring to the reforming of her strong-willed, strong-minded and, on the best of days, somewhat unpredictable nature. “Think of it, Kenna. Working for me, you could buy that Ferrari you always dreamed of. Maybe I’d even buy it for you.”

Oh, now that wasn’t fair, using an old fantasy against her. She hadn’t dreamed of having a Ferrari since she’d been sixteen years old. She tapped the steering wheel of her extremely old Honda Civic and tried to remember how many third-world countries could be fed on the price of one fancy-schmancy car.

“How’s this,” her father proposed. “A vice president position. You can run things, as you want.”

Treacherously, her heart leaped. Vice president…

“I’ll expect you in one week at our latest acquisition, the San Diego Mallory. We picked it up eighteen months ago. It just reopened after major renovations. You’ll be working with a Mr. Weston Roth. The two of you will run the place together.”

Vice president definitely had a better ring to it than her current position-accounting clerk, level one.

“You and Roth are a partnership made in heaven, trust me.”

“I thought this was your baby,” she said.

“No, no. It’s Weston’s. He’s been acting VP since Milton Stanton retired last year. And now, with your education under your belt and your silly roaming the planet habit out of your system, it’s yours as well.”

She’d “roamed the planet” for six glorious weeks as a travel scout for a travel agency just outside of Los Angeles, and she’d worked her tush off. But while business, and more specifically, numbers, were her thing, organization and travel writing were not. She’d failed horribly. “I don’t think so, Dad. I’m sorry.”

“No, I understand.” Her father’s voice lowered. Sounded sad. “It’s just that you’re an only child. The business is massive. Hotels scattered throughout the West. If something were to happen to me or your mother…”

She flicked off her radio, her chest suddenly tight. “Okay, what’s the matter?”

“It’s…nothing.”

“Is one of you sick?”

“If I pretended to be, would that count?”

She let out a relieved breath. “I know you didn’t have me just so that I’d take over your business.”

“You’re really going to let this multi-million dollar corporation go to your cousin Serena simply because it’s not your thing?”

Serena was deeply entrenched at Mallory Enterprises, working in conference sales and management, and very happy there. She could have the place and Kenna’s new partner, Mr. Weston Roth, as far as Kenna was concerned. Just his name evoked images of an old, stern, hard and unforgiving man.

She hated stern, hard, unforgiving men.

“Please, Kenna. Please do this.”

Wow, he’d hauled out the magic word, which to her recollection, he’d never used before.

“Try it,” he cajoled. “Give me…say, six months.”

Just give up her life in Santa Barbara for six months to work in San Diego, two hundred and fifty miles away. Like that was easy to do. It wasn’t San Diego that was the problem-she loved the exciting beach town nearly as much as she loved Santa Barbara. It was the thought of once again being under his thumb, following his rules…

And yet, something was new here. He was asking her, not telling.

As she’d secretly wanted all her life to please him, please him while still being herself, it made her hesitate. “What happens at the end of the six months?”

“If you’re not cut out for the job, I’ll be man enough to admit it.”

“You mean that?”

“I just said so, didn’t I?”

Yes, shockingly enough, he had, and Kenna had never known him to go back on his word. “I’ll drive you crazy,” she said, and held her breath.

Deny it, she silently wished. Deny it.

“Only if you’re inadequate.”

She let out the breath and resisted banging her hand on the steering wheel. Her gut churned because she’d always yearned to show him exactly how her creative and inventive ways could be channeled into something good, something worthwhile, something that would please them and herself at the same time.

She was insane, but… “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay, I’ll do it.” What the hell, six months wasn’t a life sentence. And it would be nice to be able to afford good hair products again. “If I can do it my way.”

He hesitated for a long moment. “We’re talking aboveboard, right? All legal-like?”

She rubbed her temples. “Yes, Dad. All legal-like.”

“Well, then. Perfect.”

“And after six months, I’m free to go.”

“Unless you like the job.”

Insanity, that’s what this was, but Kenna couldn’t pass up the chance to show him she could be strong, she could know her own mind and still fit into their world if she chose to.

She just couldn’t believe that she was choosing to.