“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 résumé 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 deserted and extremely dark, except for one house.

The sign on the porch read, Teen Zone.

With a sigh, she heaved herself out. Warm, salty air surrounded her as she made her way up the walk.

The teenage girl who answered the door took one look at her and laughed a bit cruelly. “Not a chance, lady. This place is for kids who need a place to go. You’re way too old.”

“No, you don’t understand. I just-”

“No offense, but Sarah will just send you to the shelter for hookers. It’s down the street and around the corner. Get outta here.”

“Tess!” A woman appeared in the doorway beside the teenager. “Sweetie, that’s not the way I taught you to answer the door.”

The girl hunched her shoulders. “Sorry.”

The tall, serene woman, who possibly owned the most calming voice Kenna had ever heard, gave Tess an admonishing look but gently squeezed the girl’s hand. “We’re here to help, remember? Not judge. Never judge.” She held out a hand to Kenna. “I’m Sarah.”

Kenna automatically took her hand. It was as warm as her expression and demeanor, and while Kenna appreciated it, she was no charity case. “I’m Kenna. I’m just out of gas. I was wondering if I could use your phone?”

Sarah smiled, and it was a generous one. “Of course. But I’ve got a five-gallon can in the garage, if you’d rather. I can spare you enough to get where you need to. Come in. Take a load off.”

Kenna took in the pitying look, then glanced down at herself, suddenly realizing how she must appear to them. Hair that probably looked as though she’d stuck her finger in a light socket, as it tended to do after a long day. Dress still sans jacket and blatantly sexy, to say the least. Shoes, unquestionably hookerville. So she had a secret slutty side, she couldn’t help it. “Look,” she said. “I can pay you-”

“No. No, it’s okay.” Sarah pulled her inside, where a delicious scent engulfed her.

Brownies? Kenna would pay big bucks for brownies.

If she had big bucks.

“As Tess said, this is a teen center for kids who need the escape, but I’d never turn anyone away.”

Sarah smiled. “Especially a lone woman at night in an area like this one.”

Kenna would have laughed, but it might have been a half-hysterical one, so she bit it back. “Honestly. I can pay.”

“Okay.” Amicably, Sarah led her through a living room that was small and short on furniture, but long on coziness. The walls were a faded yellow, or maybe that was just age. The couch, a well-worn red, had definitely seen its heyday, but looked comfortable enough. There were a bunch of folding chairs and a stack of magazines, as well as a television set with a dial. The seventies revisited all around.

There were several teenagers lounging around talking or watching a show, each of whom glanced over with a disinterested expression.

Sarah took Kenna to the kitchen, which didn’t look any more modern than the living room had. Here the walls were green and the cabinets didn’t have fronts. The lovely seventies again. But the brownies on a plate on the scarred Formica table looked new and mouth-watering. Sarah pointed to them. “Would you like one?”

Only more than her next breath, but she didn’t want to be any more indebted. “No,” she said regretfully. “I need to get going.”

Sarah nodded, seeming both serene and sad. “You don’t have to, Kenna. No one has to. As Tess said, I could give you the address of a wonderful women’s shelter.”

“Thank you. You’re very kind, but I think you’ve misunderstood-”

“Just remember we’re here.” Sarah led her through the back door to the garage for the gas, then walked out front with her. “And I’m always available if you need an ear, or help out of something too big to handle on your own.”

“Honestly, I’m not a prostitute. I’m not even on my own, not really. I-” She stopped short at the look on Sarah’s face and followed the woman’s gaze to her car.

The back of the faded silver Civic was overloaded with the mess she’d made when she’d decided to stay at the hotel. As usual when an idea grabbed her, she’d just acted on it. Without organizing, she’d collected her things, shoving all of it into the back seat. Dresses, shoes, makeup bag, blow dyer, more clothes, more shoes, a stuffed teddy bear from her childhood, you name it, it was back there, overflowing from her suitcases, making it look as though she lived out of the back seat of her car. “This isn’t what it looks like. I just-”

“Oh Kenna, you don’t ever have to pretend here.” Slipping a hand around her waist, Sarah hugged her. “We’ve all been down on our luck at some point, so just forget about the gas money, okay?”

“No, really. I can pay.” Thrilled to be able to do this at least, Kenna reached in for her purse, which unfortunately, was also a big mess, but when she opened her wallet she remembered she hadn’t stopped at the bank. Not that there was much in her account at the moment, but-