It's Not a Date

by Heather Blackmore

  Jen held up a palm to curb the conversation. “This is my new boss we’re talking about. There will be no talk of type, charm—”

  “Hotness.”

  “Hotness or any other factor. Clear?”

  He mock-saluted. “Aye, aye, Captain.” He again pointed in the direction of the door. “Your boss though. Kind of a stickler on the schedule front.”

  Jen smacked her forehead dramatically. “Which I completely blew. Jesus, she wrote a book about holding meetings on time.” She touched his forearm and spoke earnestly. “Jer, I left an hour—an hour—earlier than normal.”

  “Traffic’s traffic. She can’t hold people responsible for things beyond their control.”

  “She’d say I should have left earlier.”

  “Probably. So what’s the plan?”

  Jen took a deep breath and considered her options. She didn’t have to reschedule the board meeting. It was primarily for Charles’s benefit, to keep him in the loop about their progress. But it was a two-way street, as sometimes Charles advised them in meaningful ways or provided a contact he thought could help in some regard. She supposed Kade could offer similar guidance. “I guess I’ll try to reschedule the meeting at her office. Make it convenient for her.”

  “Does it make sense for you to meet with her one-on-one? Move past any awkwardness from Maui?”

  “Possibly. She might not even remember me. In fact, the way she looked at me just now, you’d think I was something she’d peeled from the bottom of her shoe.”

  Jeremy laughed. “Yeah, if that shoe had stepped in caramel with chocolate sauce. She looked like she was about to eat you for lunch.”

  “Face it. This is why we’re single. We haven’t the slightest clue about women.”

  “We’re not single. We’re married to our jobs.”

  “There’s that.”

  * * *

  Kade was pissed with a capital A. No, make that P. She was so angry, she couldn’t even spell. She stalked to Holly’s desk and motioned her into her office, something she rarely did. She posted herself at her doorway until Holly brushed past, and she closed the door. “What in bloody hell do you think you’re doing, letting me walk into the lion’s den?”

  “We’re British now?”

  “We are rankled, with a capital…Ugh. A little warning would have been nice.”

  “You seem upset.”

  “You’ve known since yesterday that I’m suddenly a director for her company!”

  “Who?”

  “Don’t play dumb. Creative Care. Ring a bell?”

  “Your ten o’clock.”

  “Creative Care, formerly called Care Labs, apparently. According to the conference agenda, she was CEO of Care Labs. Now she’s CEO of Creative Care. Tell me you didn’t know that.”

  “I know that a Jennifer Spencer is CEO of Creative Care, formerly called Care Labs, yes.”

  “Yet you didn’t tell me.”

  “You’ve been to dozens of conferences. If you’re this upset, you must mean Maui.”

  “Yes. Jen Spencer.”

  “You told me you’d met someone who reminded you of Cassie. You told me Cassie would have tried to set you up with this woman. You told me you thought the two of them would have become fast friends.”

  “Yes.” Kade knew all this. Why was Holly stalling? She was the most forthcoming person in Kade’s life. Why not give her a heads-up? Let her mentally prepare?

  “You also told me you were happy you wouldn’t be seeing her again because you could do the same to her that you did to Cassie.”

  “Yes.” Kade was beyond exasperated.

  “You never told me her name.”

  Kade paused. That was probably true, but she was too riled to admit defeat. “I’m sure I mentioned the CEO of Care Labs.”

  Holly shook her head. “CEO of a startup.”

  Kade took several breaths to calm down, something she should have done prior to initiating this conversation. Holly didn’t deserve an upbraiding. She looked after Kade better than anyone in Kade’s life, better than Kade herself did. She wrapped her arms around Holly. “I’m sorry. Please forgive the lunatic who charged in here just now.” When Holly returned the embrace, Kade felt mildly better. She hadn’t yet lost this friend.

  Kade slumped into one of her visitor chairs. “I can’t…I can’t.”

  Holly sat next to Kade. “What can’t you do?”

  “I need to resign from this board seat. I can’t be in this woman’s life. This woman cannot be in my life.”

  “If she has this effect on you, I disagree.”

  “No. No. Charles is going to have to find someone else. I’ll call him.” Kade stood and rounded the desk to her usual chair.

  “Aren’t you being a bit rash? What happened at the meeting? Did she say something to you?”

  “No. She was late. I left.”

  “You didn’t talk to her?”

  “No.”

  “I think you owe it to Charles to at least have one conversation with her. I mean, what are you going to tell him? ‘I have a crush on Jen so I can’t be on her board’?”

  It was a good point. What exactly was Kade’s logic? “I don’t have a crush on her.”

  “Then you should have no problem talking to her. It’s business, which you excel at.”

  “Stroking my ego won’t work.”

  “No?”

  “Maybe.”

  Holly’s phone buzzed, as it often did, but she ignored it and glanced at her watch instead. “You weren’t expected back until eleven thirty. You have market research until one. Lunch arrives at noon. Sushi. So why don’t you hit the gym? Eat when you get back.”

  Market research was a catch-all involving sifting through the numerous newsletters and blogs Kade received daily, as well as reading online articles, venture-capital investment summaries, stock-market bulletins, and testing product demos of her own portfolio companies as well as competitors’. She could easily fill her days with US research alone, so combined with staying current with what was happening in European, Asian, and South American markets, it was a recurring calendar item Holly often used whenever Kade wasn’t saddled with a call or meeting.

  “Hit the gym” was a euphemism for “chill out.” Although Kade could barely carve thirty minutes of exercise out of a ninety-minute slot, given the required drive, shower, change of clothes, hair and makeup time, the infrequency of Holly’s gym suggestions meant that Kade always heeded them, for both their sakes.

  “Sold,” Kade said, snatching her purse and following Holly out of her office. Holly’s phone buzzed again, and she pointed out to Kade the caller ID of Jennifer Spencer. “Don’t even think about rescheduling the board meeting. She had her chance.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it,” Holly said as she shooed Kade away.

  * * *

  “Kadrienne Davenport’s office,” said the woman who answered Jen’s call.

  “Yes. May I speak with Kade please? I mean, Kadrienne.”

  “Who’s calling, please?”

  “Jennifer Spencer.”

  “CEO of Creative Care.”

  “That’s right.”

  “She isn’t available at the moment. May I take a message?”

  “May I have her mobile number? She’s on my board, and I’d like to be able to contact her.”

  “I assure you, Ms. Spencer, if she’s available, you can always get ahold of her through me. Day or night.”

  “And if the message is private?”

  “Then you would already have her number in order to deliver it.”

  Jen didn’t have a comeback.

  “Do you have a private message for Kadrienne?” the assistant asked.

  “No.” At this point, Jen couldn’t even remember why she’d called.

  “Are you still there, Ms. Spencer?”

  “Yes. I’m here. And please call me Jen. With whom am I speaking, please?”

  “Holly Keller.”

  “If you don’t mind
my asking, have you been with Kade— Kadrienne—long?”

  “I’m the only assistant she’s ever had.”

  “Then I should thank you. For looking out for her. She once told me you do that. So…thank you.”

  “You needn’t thank me for looking after Kade, Ms.—Jen.”

  Jen noticed Holly’s slip with the informal name. “Can you tell me her next available appointment? I’d be happy to meet at her office.”

  “Rescheduling this morning’s meeting? Or something else?”

  Jen could hear keystrokes in the background. Briefly surprised to learn that news of the failed meeting had already gotten back to this woman, Jen reminded herself that good assistants always knew these kinds of things. “Rescheduling.”

  “She has an hour at two o’clock tomorrow. Does that work?”

  “Tomorrow?” Jen didn’t expect anything so soon.

  “Yes. No good?”

  “No. That works. I’ll take it.”

  “I suggest arriving early. We have secure Wi-Fi throughout the conference rooms, which you’re welcome to use while you wait.”

  “Great. Thanks for your help.” In less than twenty-four hours, Jen would be face-to-face with her new boss, a woman too rigid to accommodate a thirteen-minute meeting delay. A sexy-as-hell woman Jen had wet dreams about, who probably couldn’t pick her out of a lineup.

  She wasn’t sure whether she wanted to show up in chain mail or a teddy. The only thing she knew was she wouldn’t be late.

  Chapter Five

  Jen was prepped and ready with her A game. This wasn’t anything major. She covered these topics regularly, lived and breathed them daily. Market size, competitive landscape, product roadmap, channel strategy, marketing plan, key hires, financial model. She knew it all. She’d bring Kade up to speed on everything and answer any questions she might have.

  So she’d kissed the woman. So what? It’s not like they’d slept together. And even if they had, it was a long time ago. She hadn’t thought about Kade since Maui. Well, there was the thorough Internet research she’d done immediately afterward, but that was it. At least consciously. The woman known as Kadrienne Davenport was a high flyer in a competitive industry, with a reputation for being as sharp as a steel blade and as inflexible. Highly respected and feared. Personnel shakeups within her portfolio companies weren’t uncommon under her watch, but there was no arguing with her success rates. She’d started, helmed, and sold two companies for hundreds of millions while in her twenties, and as a partner with Matlock Ventures, a venture-capital firm in Silicon Valley, several of her early investments had already borne fruit, those companies having been acquired for undisclosed sums.

  Subconsciously, Jen’s thoughts regularly strayed to Kade, who featured prominently in her dreams, most of which were clothing optional. None of it had bothered Jen. Why shouldn’t she dream about a beautiful woman with whom she’d shared a special day? She passed her days running a company and spending time with her grandmother, not clubbing until all hours or reviewing online-dating profiles. Getting Creative Care off the ground required her complete attention, and she was passionate about its mission. She wasn’t in danger of losing focus on the things that mattered simply because she now reported to a woman she was once attracted to. For a brief period. In a faraway place.

  This is what she repeated to herself as she made her way to Kade’s assistant’s workstation.

  Jen stood at Holly Keller’s desk and offered her hand. From Holly’s take-charge manner, Jen expected someone older than this twenty-something woman, though her professional ensemble spoke of sophistication. Her coloring resembled Jen’s, her hair more of a dirty blond than Jen’s natural shade. “Hi. Jen Spencer. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

  Holly stood as well and shook Jen’s hand. And held it. Jen felt so scrutinized under Holly’s gaze that she quickly wiped her lips with her free hand. Did she have a crumb or something stuck to her mouth? She didn’t feel anything amiss. “I’m sorry. Have we met before?”

  Holly smiled warmly and her honey-brown eyes softened. “You remind me of my sister.”

  Okay, a little awkward, but far better than being reminded of a mean headmistress or recurring nightmare. Jen returned the smile. “I hope that’s a good thing.”

  “It’s an excellent thing. You’re early. Can I get you some water? Coffee?”

  “I’ve been holed up at the café around the corner. I think I’m sufficiently caffeinated. Water would be great, thanks.”

  Holly pointed down the hallway. “Second conference room on the left. I’ll let her know you’re here.”

  Jen settled in and followed a placard’s instructions regarding the Wi-Fi network and password. Holly came in, arranged two coasters, set a glass of water next to Jen and the other at the adjacent seat. Jen hoped Kade would take the seat across from her instead.

  A few minutes later, Jen looked up when she heard a knock on the conference room door, and Kade entered. Radiating confidence and savvy, she looked cosmopolitan in a tailored, two-button, navy wool jacket with matching leg-lengthening bootcut pants. Her dark hair was in an elegant French-twist updo that showed off an enticing amount of neck, a deliciously soft and sexy area Jen suddenly recalled with vivid clarity. It was exactly the wrong thing she should be thinking of, yet she couldn’t deny that her attraction to Kade was apparently impervious to the passage of time.

  She immediately felt an internal battle break out between the side of her that wanted to embrace Kade and the side that needed to maintain a professional detachment. For as much as she wanted this meeting to be solely work-related, Jen followed her feelings. Kade had an uncanny way of stirring her, and, however necessary, ignoring that allure would prove difficult. Would they acknowledge their previous acquaintance? She stood and offered her hand, which Kade took. “Thank you for seeing me. I apologize again for yesterday.”

  “You have an hour, Ms. Spencer. Show me why Charles believes in you.” Kade snatched the water and coaster and planted them and herself on the opposite side of the table. It was what Jen had originally wished for, but now it felt like a rebuff. It stung.

  Jen nodded and retook her seat. Apparently they would not address their prior association. She launched into her presentation.

  In eighteen minutes from start to finish, Jen reached the end of her PowerPoint deck. Most of the time, it took much longer to deliver because people usually asked questions along the way. Kade hadn’t said a word. Jen prompted her. “Questions?”

  “What’s your fund-raising plan?” Kade asked.

  “Well, we’re still programming the redesign that will streamline—”

  “You said you have four months of runway,” Kade said.

  “Yes, but the product isn’t—”

  “Get it there. Yesterday. You’re running out of cash.”

  “I know, but without—”

  “Conventional wisdom is to start raising money six months beforehand.”

  “I know the rule of thumb, but the product needs to—”

  “You have no customers.”

  “Yes, but our VP of sales is—”

  “Without a working product and customers, you can’t raise money.”

  “Which is why our VP of sales—”

  “How long has he or she been with you?”

  “He. Almost three months.”

  “Terminate him.”

  “We need sales and I’m not a salesperson.”

  “Apparently neither is he. Look, Jen. Can I call you Jen?” Jen was too startled by the sudden shift to a personal question to answer, and Kade didn’t wait for her to. “You’re a twelve-person company. You shouldn’t have a VP of sales. You’re in beta—glorified alpha. You need to close some deals yourself before you incur that kind of overhead.”

  “With severance, it’s not like we’d save any—”

  “Severance? For what? In return for a release of liability? What’s he going to sue you for? He hasn’t sold anything. No. Terminate him
and save the money. Go with what you have, and shelve the redesign until you have customers demanding it. Do the onboarding manually if you have to. You’re not trying to prove scale at this stage. You’re trying to prove utility. Set up meetings with your top prospects, and get moving on closing business.”

  “I wouldn’t feel right about not giving severance.”

  “But it feels right to run your company off the edge of a cliff and not be able to pay anyone?”

  Jen snapped the lid of her laptop shut. “I care about my team.”

  “Well, then group hugs all around for the next four months, because that’s all you’ll get.”

  Jen shoved her laptop into her bag and left without another word.

  * * *

  Instead of returning to the office and giving Jeremy the details of her lambasting, Jen went to her grandmother’s house, oddly indifferent as to whether today was a good day for Nana’s memory, which she usually longed for. Sometimes Nana’s short-term recall was so poor she repeated the same questions over and over, which Jen used to try to answer as if for the first time. She’d subsequently learned that changing subjects proved less frustrating for both of them. Jen herself had good and bad days, sometimes infinitely patient and other times childishly the opposite. Today she wanted to vent about her new boss, and it wouldn’t matter whether her grandmother could follow along.

  When she arrived at the house, she was pleased to see a car in the driveway. It belonged to Doreen, one of Nana’s two primary caregivers. Nana required around-the-clock care, so while it was typical for a caregiver to be there, it was always a relief because it meant Jen didn’t have to struggle at the last minute to find care. Nana wished to remain in her home instead of moving to an assisted-living facility. She could get around the house with a walker and could make simple meals, but her strength and balance were poor. Plus, she was forgetful. The combination meant she needed someone to monitor her full-time. Even though she felt self-sufficient, the number of times she’d fallen or inadvertently put herself in harm’s way indicated otherwise.