Natural Blond Instincts Read Free

Barbara the night before and had stayed in her old bedroom at her parents’ house. She hadn’t lived there since the day she’d graduatedfrom high school, and there’d been a good reason for that—aside from getting cut off financially, that is. Her parents had complete and utter disregard for her privacy. Just this morning while Kenna had been in the shower, her mother had set out a black suit on the bed, complete with nylons. Nylons. Now there was an item of clothing that had not been invented by a woman.
    She’d given her mother back the suit and nylons, and the look on her face had made Kenna want to wear underwear with holes in it.
    Or a fuchsia suit.
    But by then, she’d been running late, and hadn’t spared the time to locate her slip in the mess of her as-yet-unpacked suitcase.
    So here she was, at the designated conference room on the second floor of the San Diego Mallory. All she had to do was go in and rattle off her readiness to discuss acquisition and renovation budgets, quarterly forecasts and long-term strategic planning—she’d been boning up, reading such fun and light fare as the corporation’s annual reports and tourism stats for a week now—and she’d be set.
    She had no doubts. She could do this. Hell, she’d once cleaned iguana cages at the LA Zoo, with the little buggers still in residence, so really, she could do anything. As she established herself here, she’dlighten up the uptight work atmosphere if she could. And she’d keep her sense of humor firmly in place, no matter what.
    In light of that, she’d wow this old Mr. Roth, wow and dazzle…whatever it took. She put her hand on the door handle and noted that her heart had picked up speed and she was feeling a little overheated. Damn the nerves she didn’t want to admit she had. Given that she’d promised herself never to let ’em see her sweat, she peeled off her jacket. Ready now, she opened the door and called out, “Honey, I’m home.” She took a step inside and…went utterly still.
    Twelve men wearing conservative dark suits sit ting around a huge conference table stopped talking and turned her way. One of them was her father.
    Fabulous. So much for her private meeting with Weston Roth.
    Silence reigned for far too long as twelve pairs of eyes stared at her. She was just contemplating how to make a safe retreat when one of the suits stood up.
    â€œI’ll take it from here,” he said, which she resented the hell out of.
    No one would take “it” from here, not if they were referring to her.
    That man came forward, and gestured to the door. “Shall we?”
    â€œSure.” She smiled, having no idea who he was, but she could fake banalities as well as anyone. Attitude could come later in private.
    He shut the door behind them while Kenna feigned a huge interest in the art on the walls, idly wondering who purchased their art. Did they go to the auctions? Private sales? In either case, no doubt they got ripped off.
    The man who’d brought her out here simply watched her, she could feel his eyes boring into her back, so she turned around in order to eye him right back. His broad shoulders propping up the far wall, his long legs casually crossed, he looked for all the world as if he’d just strutted off the glossy pages of GQ magazine. Style, elegance and yes, dammit, the dreaded polish poured off him with ease. Clearly comfortable in his own skin, he smiled, and it wasn’t a particularly nice one.
    Kenna’s resentment against him rose. She should have known this wasn’t going to go well when she’d seen all the dark colors in the room. She had this theory that the colors people wore indicated their openness to new ideas, their ability to change. And what had she seen in the conference room? Unimaginative colors. Blah colors. She’d been the only splash of life in the room.
    â€œSo…” He