Natural Blond Instincts

“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 resume 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