Jill Shalvis: Natural Blond Instincts

“Sure.” He gestured with his head which way to go, and kept up with her stride for stride. His smug smile told her he knew who she was avoiding and why, and it made her want to trip him.

She could handle this, she reminded herself as they walked. She could handle this and him.

She could handle anything. And if she said it often enough, it just might be true.

SHE WALKED into his office ahead of him, eyes flashing and chin high in the air, as if she wasn’t wearing a skirt better suited for swinging from a pole than for a boardroom, and a silky tank that made Wes think of the beach.

He gestured her to one of the two guest chairs in front of his desk. Usually he sat next to whoever he was meeting with, making everything more casual, which was how he liked things. But this time, he didn’t want casual. He wanted anything but, so he took the chair behind his desk, thinking he needed as much space from this woman as possible.

Kenna sat and crossed her legs.

Since she didn’t wear stockings-yes, he’d noticed in spite of himself-the unmistakable sound of skin sliding against skin distracted him for a moment, but only a moment before his boss’s voice sounded off in his head.

Take care of my little girl. See if she’s as good as I know she can be.

Oh yeah, this was going to be fun. “I’ll get right to the point,” he said. “I’ve been acting vice president for nearly a year.”

“Let me guess. And you thought you had the job in the bag?”

Hell, yes, he’d thought that. And it was a kick in the teeth to find out differently. “Do you really want to know what I think?”

She leaned back and settled in as if she had all the time in the world. “Oh, yes. I have a feeling it’s very interesting.”

“All right.” He propped his elbows on his desk. “I don’t approve of you getting this job simply because of who you’re related to. Without any merit.”

“Without merit?”

“There are people within this very hotel who resent-”

“You mean you. You resent.”

“-people who’ve worked extremely hard to get where they are-”

“And I haven’t. Or so you assume.” She nodded, then leaned in, too. Steepled her fingers together and spoke over them. “I’m afraid you’re just going to have to deal with whatever your hang-ups are about working with me, Mr. Roth, because I’m here now.”

“Yes,” he agreed tightly. “I am going to have to deal with it. But so will you. We’re in the middle of-”

“Renovations. Employee contracts.”

So she’d done a little bit of research. He didn’t feel overly impressed. “And more. We’ll have to learn to deal with this together.”

“Sounds like fun.”

A headache began at the base of his skull. “Your father wants us to comanage this place in order to get you the experience you need to move up the ladder at Mallory Enterprises.”

She blinked, for one brief flash, clearly startled.

He wasn’t touched. “The way I see it, that puts us directly at odds. On the one hand, we need to work together to see that this place shines and makes us both look good. On the other hand, we’re competitors for the next rung up on that ladder.” Was she even paying attention anymore? It was hard to tell. Her eyes-deep forest green and full of secrets-were right on his, but she seemed preoccupied. “Kenna?”

“Yes?” As if still upset by his spoiled-daughter comment-yeah, right, like her attention span was that long, he’d read her résumé-she ran her tongue over her lower lip, eating off a good amount of her gloss, which, he hadn’t noticed before, smelled like peaches and cream.

Much.

“Are you listening?” he asked politely.

“Oh, I’m listening. You think I’m going to try to take your job.”

“Actually, no, I’m not worried about you taking my job.”

“Well, then, what are you worried about?”

Yeah, what the hell was he worried about? He only had to share the position he’d always wanted with the boss’s daughter, leaving him in the ever-so-unenviable position of having either to make her look good for her father, or make her look bad to further his career. Great. Excellent. And to think he’d thought this whole thing a bad idea.

She came to a slow stand. “I went to business school and-”

“I know your qualifications.”

“Then you also know I grew up within this world…”

Yes, he knew. As opposed to his life, which had started in the gutter.

“Not that I ever imagined myself working here since-” She chewed on her lower lip-no longer glossed-and looked at him with an expression he couldn’t place.

Mistrust?

She mistrusted him?

Now why the hell that got to him, he had no idea. “Since what?”

“Since nothing. Forget it.”

He should, but he had to admit, his curiosity had gotten the better of him. Anyone within the company would give their eyeteeth to have this job. There were several qualified people, probably crying in their coffee right this very minute because Mr. Mallory had given it to him.

And his daughter.

Wes wasn’t worried about the others. He knew he was the best man for the job, just as he knew he’d worked his tail off for it for years. No guilt there.

But if he were Kenna, he’d feel that guilt in spades. She’d done nothing other than go to college-on her daddy’s wallet no doubt-and then she’d taken a series of jobs that on paper suggested either a bipolar condition or a serious attention deficit disorder. This vagabond background made her completely unsuitable for the job, and everyone around her would feel the same way. As a manager, that was going to make it inherently difficult on her, and therefore also on him. Surely her father had to know that.

Could she handle it? He actually hadn’t heard much about her until recently. The gossip mill suddenly had become agog with rumors, how she’d tricked her father into giving her the job, how she’d stepped all over her cousin-who’d been working at Mallory Enterprises for years-to get placed ahead of her. How all she’d had to do was bat her pretty long lashes and the world bowed at her feet.

Wes had little patience for the gossip, and less patience for the subject of the rumors. In his thirty-three years he’d learned that hard work and dedication would get him where he wanted to be, nothing else, and he expected the same from the people he worked with. So, despite a poor first impression, he would make his own judgment about her.

And stop noticing the peaches-and-cream lip-gloss.

To that effect, he stopped looking at her face, but that was trouble in itself. She was still standing, which left him quite the view, with his eyes just about belly-button level.

Her tank and skirt required sunglasses to look at, but he squinted and braved it. Both hugged her body, emphasizing her mile-long legs, her curves…and the slight outline of a ring at her navel.

Inanely, he wondered what else was pierced.

Oh, man. Bad idea to wonder such things, and he removed his glasses so that she was nothing but a blur.

Much better.

“Well.” There was an arctic cold front in her tone. “What should we start with?”

“The best thing would be for you to familiarize yourself with what we’re doing.”

She nodded in agreement. “I’d like to start with the renovations and the accounting associated with that. Start preparing the final statements and reports.”

“Fine.” Good. Let her tackle the tedious task far, far away from him.

“Where would I find those records?”

“In the records room. Next floor up.”

“Great. As much as I’ve enjoyed your company, I’m off. I’m sure I’ll be seeing you.” Her tone was only slightly warmer than that previous arctic temperature.