It’s Not a Date
Falling in love is the hardest business of all.
Entrepreneur and innovator Kadrienne Davenport gets results. A demanding executive and stickler for punctuality, Kade throws herself into work to avoid hurting anyone, convinced she only causes pain to those she loves.
When Jennifer Spencer meets an incognito Kade at a conference, sparks fly. But when Kade unexpectedly becomes her boss, Jen’s problems multiply. The company she founded is going broke, her grandmother’s dementia is worsening, and her attraction to Kade—her difficult, brilliant, charismatic mentor—is growing.
Kade’s desire to keep things professional between them is in Jen’s best interest. Yet what’s in Kade’s best interest…is Jen.
What Reviewers Say About Heather Blackmore’s Work
Like Jazz
“This book is a top of the line winner that grabbed me, held me, and more than entertained me from start to finish! …I totally recommend this book; it is capable of being enjoyed on many levels, from different angles, and in its totality. Please do not miss this thoroughly satisfying book!”—Rainbow Book Reviews
“An excellent debut and an excellent book: well-developed, engaging characters, good plot, great setting.”—Rainbow Awards 2014
For Money or Love
“As it progresses the characters deepen, the plot thickens and it becomes so much more than ‘just’ a romance. The story pulls you along on a whole series of levels, with several interesting sub-plots and entertaining characters to follow…by half way through [I] literally couldn’t put it down…I loved it.”—The Lesbian Reading Room
It’s Not a Date
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It’s Not a Date
© 2018 By Heather Blackmore. All Rights Reserved.
ISBN 13:978-1-63555-150-1
This Electronic Book is published by
Bold Strokes Books, Inc.
P.O. Box 249
Valley Falls, NY 12185
First Edition: March 2018
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.
Credits
Editor: Shelley Thrasher
Production Design: Susan Ramundo
Cover Design by Tammy Seidick
By the Author
Like Jazz
For Money or Love
It’s Not a Date
Acknowledgments
My thanks to the many Bold Strokes Books staffers, authors, and volunteers who helped with the publication of this novel and provided a fun and supportive environment along the way.
To friends and authors Kathy Chetkovich and Cindy Rizzo: I greatly appreciate your thoughtful feedback on an early draft. Your keen insights and suggestions undoubtedly improved the end result.
Shelley Thrasher, editor extraordinaire: I have been so fortunate to work with you on all three of my novels. If you ever leave me, I will hunt you down and read accounting textbooks to you.
Shelly Lampe, my love and heart, thank you for your humor, love, and kindness, and for the title of this book. I am incredibly lucky to be sharing my life with you.
I wrote much of this novel on the peaceful grounds of Vajrapani Institute, a special, spiritual place in the Santa Cruz mountains that values wisdom and compassion. I was surrounded by nature’s beauty and silent, truth-seeking strangers. In today’s chaotic, technology-driven, limited-attention-span culture, rare havens such as Vajrapani encourage the rejuvenation of one’s soul and prove that kind forces exist to more than offset the greed and short-sightedness of many of those in power. Thank you, Vajrapani, for reminding me that Kindness is everlasting.
Dedication
To forgive a loved one for something deeply hurtful is as crucial as it is difficult, for it is only through forgiveness that we open ourselves to the infinite beauty and love that an unencumbered heart can experience. This book is for everyone brave enough to grant themselves such freedom.
Chapter One
The plane pulled into the gate at Maui’s Kahului airport five minutes early, which suited Kadrienne Davenport perfectly. She preferred to run on schedule, but early was better than late. Her keynote speech was slotted at the bizarre time of ten a.m., and if everything kept going according to plan, she could find her driver, check in to the hotel, get at least six hours of sleep, hit the stationary bike, shower and change for the conference, and enjoy a sit-down breakfast while she read an honest-to-God paper version of The Wall Street Journal, all before having to walk onstage. She hoped the gym inside her Kapalua hotel wouldn’t disappoint in the way such facilities frequently did, with equipment so in need of maintenance it was surprising guests weren’t issued a can of WD-40 at check-in.
It had been a few years since she’d flown via commercial airline, and as she retrieved her laptop, Kade pondered the rule about having to stow larger electronics during the initial and final minutes of the flight. The waste was staggering. With half a billion business trips taken in the US annually, she estimated the loss equated to over 16 million hours of productivity in the US alone. Surely some safety device such as a short cable that could secure one’s laptop to the seat or tray table could be designed. She decided she’d either invest in a startup that figured out a safe way around the problem, or she’d start one herself.
Since she was in the second row, Kade’s turn to exit came quickly. Carry-on strapped over her shoulder, she followed the initial passengers off the Jetway and into the terminal. She headed toward Ground Transportation and smiled upon seeing her middle name on a placard held by a man in a suit, wearing a chauffeur’s hat. Kade approached her driver.
“I’m Kade Delaney.” Kade typically opted to use her middle name when she traveled commercially in order to avoid having to engage in polite conversation on the rare chance someone recognized the name Kadrienne Davenport.
The man nodded and slid a hand into his breast pocket. “Pleasure to meet you, Ms. Delaney. I have a message for you.” He extended an envelope to Kade.
Confused, Kade pulled a sheet of paper from the envelope and read its contents.
Don’t be mad. –H
She leveled the man with an icy stare. “You’re not my driver?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Are you from a limousine service?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Did Holly put you up to this?”
“I’m only a messenger, ma’am.” He tipped his hat. “Have a good night, Ms. Delaney.” He turned to leave.
“Wait. Can I catch a ride with you to my hotel? I’ll pay you.”
“Sorry, ma’am. I’m not allowed to take passengers.”
“Of course not,” Kade muttered. Holly, her assistant, would have seen to that as part of this little…whatever-this-was…adventure to force her to interact with people who weren’t on the agenda. Alterations to the plan didn’t make sense, given Kade’s packed schedule tomorrow. It wasn’t as if she could cram in an excursion. As she watched him walk away, she pulled out her mobile phone and dialed Holly’s number, which kicked over to voice mail. “Not funny, Holly. Call me as soon as you get this.” She ended the call and stormed through the tiny terminal toward the taxi stand.
The airport was like a tiny replica of a big-city version, as if it wanted to be a life-size airport when it grew up. But that would require air-conditioning, Kade thought unkindly, as the humidity hit her like a noodle thrown at the wall to see if it would stick. There were only two terminals, which could be navigated end-to-end within minutes. Photographs of Hawaiian dancers in traditional Polynesian dress lined the walls. Kade imagined the male dancers smiling at all the deplaning passengers wearing jeans or other heavy materials while they hulaed to the off-camera ukulele in only their loincloths.
The word taxi stand was generous for what was a faded yellow curb, which at present was empty. In fact, the entire airport seemed deserted except for the folks who had been on her flight. It was only eleven p.m. local time. This was an international airport. Shouldn’t more people be here?
Kade waited. She was the only person trying to hail a taxi, and the longer she stood alone, the more certain she became that no cabs were forthcoming. She could call for one, but this was the land of “driving with aloha.” Rush wasn’t the operative word of the islands. She couldn’t rally behind the idea of standing around for God knew how long. Time to hit the rental-car counters. It meant losing the time she’d planned to work during the forty-minute drive to the hotel, but this taxi stand was seeing less action than an Antarctic snow-cone vendor. Holly had some major explaining to do.
Unlike at Chicago O’Hare or Boston Logan or LAX, it took her only a few minutes to arrive at the service counters. Only one car company was open, staffed by two tired-looking fifty-somethings. Hearing dot-matrix printers spewing forth contracts, Kade hoped the vehicles offered were newer than the office technology and mentally confirmed that she was current on her automobile-club membership.
At least the view was inviting. Kade noticed the blonde as soon as she entered the rental-car area. Any woman who could capture Kade’s attention while standing under the appalling fluorescent ceiling lights of a rental-car center after having spent the duration of the evening on an airplane deserved Kade’s admiration. At first it was because, aside from the two people presently being served, she was the only person waiting in line. And then it was because the woman turned around and unleashed a warm smile that could have melted Kade on the spot, had she not already liquefied from the humidity.
Kade had seen that smile before. A different woman, a different time, a different circumstance, a lifetime ago. But God, it was the same smile. Kade had come across two perfect things in life—well, in the life of her youth: her friend’s smiles and her friend’s hugs. Cassie’s smiles bested any chocolate, drug, compliment, sunny day, test score, promotion, or pardon. They had a transformative power that could boost Kade’s spirits in a heartbeat and alter for the better any mood Kade was in.
And her hugs. When Cassie hugged her, Kade felt the world dissolve around them. Kade would forgo food, water, sleep, and sunlight if she could feel Cassie’s arms around her again.
Given the less-than-ideal circumstances in which Kade now found herself, she was piqued that the blonde had captured her attention, and she wished she had someone like Cassie at her side, encouraging her to initiate conversation and possibly ask her on a date.
But reality was a harsh and unforgiving mistress, and Kade was stuck in her own skin, which meant squelching her desire to meet the woman with the engaging smile. She wasn’t here to socialize. She slowed her pace and pretended to study something on her phone, simultaneously relieved and disappointed when the woman was called to the counter.
* * *
Jennifer Spencer was surprised by the last entrant to the rental- car queue and somewhat frustrated she’d been called forward. She definitely would have struck up a conversation. She’d seen the brunette heading toward the taxi area earlier and was a bit envious of whichever driver would be lucky enough to get the fare, though it probably wouldn’t be the safest of rides with the driver focusing on the passenger via the rearview mirror instead of the road. At least that’s what Jen would be doing.
The woman walked with confidence and a take-no-prisoners attitude, the kind of stride that could carry her down the streets of New York City at two a.m., assured that no one would dare approach. She wore her silky brown hair in a low ponytail, likely for comfort during the flight as well as on the ground, considering the humidity. Her pantsuit was probably custom, given the tapered waist and extra length required in the leg. The flared hem offered glimpses of the stylish mid-heeled boots she looked like she could run in. She had a little ski-slope nose that Jen wanted to run her finger down, and her serious eyes were an interesting hazel. She wore either lip gloss or a lipstick shade that faintly accentuated the natural color of her lovely mouth, which Jen found oddly inviting, given the frown occupying it. Jen could imagine that mouth making its way down her naked body until it—
“Miss? Miss?” A voice pulled her back to reality like some vaudeville hook.
“I’m sorry. What?” Jen wrenched her gaze from the woman and returned her focus to the representative trying to issue her a vehicle.
“The supplemental insurance coverage. Do you wish to purchase or decline?”
“Oh. Decline. Thanks.”
With his ballpoint pen, the man marked a number of areas on the form with Xs. “Please initial here, here, here, here, here, sign here, and initial here.”
As she signed where indicated and tried to take in the rest of his instructions, Jen heard snippets of the brunette’s increasingly voluble conversation with the other clerk. She gleaned that this was the last inbound flight of the night, no cars were available without a reservation, and that, yes, the woman could speak with her manager, but she’d have to return in the morning when he was on duty. The brunette said something about taxis and bum-fucked Egypt, then sliced her palm through the air as if to strike her outburst from the record. She left with a curt “thank you” and marched back toward the terminal.
Jen grabbed the proffered key and tugged her roller bag, practically running to catch up to the woman. “Excuse me,” she called twice, louder the second time, and the woman stopped and looked up from her phone.
“Yes?”
Oh, those eyes up close—intelligent and appraising, sparkling with flecks of forest and autumn. Jen struggled to catch her breath and blamed it on the forty-foot dash. “Would you like a ride?” Jen seemed to catch the woman off guard because she studied Jen as if she were trying to complete a puzzle. Jen replayed the past few moments and knew the woman spoke English, so she tried again. She dangled the key fob. “I’m happy to take you wherever you’re going, or at least drop you at a hotel where you can call a cab or have one meet you.”
“Why would you do that?”
It was Jen’s turn to be confused. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“I’m a stranger you just met in an airport. I could be anyone,” the woman said, seeming aghast.
Jen laughed. “What are you going to do? Steal my underwear?”
The woman again looked perplexed. Then something shifted, and she smiled. “What kind of underwear?”
Oh my God. Jen wasn’t expecting that. Her cheeks heated. The woman could be playing off the idea of filching some fancy name-brand lingerie, or she could be flirting big-time. Jen extended her hand. “Jen Spencer.” They were similar in stature, and Jen realized it was the woman’s carriage that made her seem taller than her own five-nine.
The woman hiked her carry-on bag up on her shoulder before taking Jen’s hand. “Kade Delaney. And a ride would be great, thank you.” The greeting lasted several seconds longer than was customary, neither interested in ending the contact.
“You’re welcome. We’re this way.” Jen led them to the designated car.
As Jen adjusted the seat and mirrors, she asked, “Where to?”
Kade removed her laptop from its protective sleeve and flipped it open. “I’m at the Ritz-Carlton, but I’m happy to be dropped off wherever you’re going.”
“You’re not attending the Women in Tech conference t
here, are you?”
“I am. I take it you are too?”
“Which panel are you on?” With the confidence Kade projected, she probably wasn’t merely an attendee.
Kade turned her head and met Jen’s gaze. “I’m not on one. Are you?”
Jen put the car in drive. “Yes, and I’m trying not to freak out about it.”
“You’ll be fine.”
“Miranda McArthur’s on my panel.”
Kade eyed Jen and waited.
Jen filled her in. “CEO of HipSpot.”
“Right. And?”
“The fastest-growing online travel company in the world?”
“I know who she is, but I don’t see why that should freak you out.”
“She’s amazing.”
“And you’re not?”
“You don’t even know me.”
“Not true, Jen Spencer. I know you show kindness to strangers in airports, you’re in high tech, and you wear underwear. Or at least you pack it. Of course, I’d have to…see it, to know for sure.”
“On?” Jen posed the question to get a better idea of the signals she was reading.
“You’re in the driver’s seat.”
Jen stopped the car before they exited the parking lot. “You’re flirting with me.”
Kade raised her hands as if in surrender. “You’re the one who mentioned underwear. I was merely staying on theme.”
“Totally flirting.”
“Sorry. I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable.” Kade’s expression shuttered, returning to that of the woman who was told no cars were available.
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