It's Not a Date

by Heather Blackmore

  “Hmm?” Jen said as she came to the realization that Kade had spoken.

  Kade smiled, licked the corner of her mouth, and dabbed it with a napkin. “I asked how your grandmother’s doing.”

  Joy surged through Jen that Kade remembered this piece of her life, though she didn’t understand why it meant so much. “Thank you for asking. She’s…she has good days and bad days. Like we all do.” She picked up her piece of dessert and took a bite.

  As she ate, Kade touched a fingertip to Jen’s bottom lip and slowly traced it along the skin. Jen stopped chewing, fighting not to swoon from the jolt of pleasure that shot through her. Kade took a little swipe and held up a tiny flake of the thin dough as if to show Jen she had a reason for the caress. Jen didn’t need any logic at that moment. All she needed was more of Kade’s hands on her. She found herself drifting closer, as if pursuing Kade’s touch, and forced herself to sit back.

  “She’s lucky she has you,” Kade said, and it took Jen a moment to re-engage in the conversation.

  Jen wasn’t sure she should eat any more of the baklava, which seemed intent on transforming itself into an aphrodisiac. “I’ve been lucky to have her. When I was younger, I stayed with her for many weeks every summer whenever my folks drove back East to visit my other grandparents. I love them, too, but I don’t know them as well as Nana. She’s always had my back.”

  Jen eyed the half-eaten morsel again and looked up when Kade chuckled.

  Kade smiled. “You seem wary of it.”

  Jen pointed at it. “That’s because this baklava has an agenda. This is grade-A, seduction-class baklava.” She raised her palms in surrender. “I’m done.” She headed to the conference room and packed her things. Kade walked her to the front door.

  “You’re okay to drive?” Kade asked.

  “Yes. Kade…”

  Kade arched an eyebrow.

  She wanted to ask the question on her mind but decided to shelve it. She hiked her laptop bag higher on her shoulder and stuck out her hand. “Thank you.”

  Kade didn’t shake Jen’s hand so much as hold it in hers. This was all Jen needed as incentive.

  “Can I ask a non-work-related question?” Jen asked.

  Kade nodded.

  “Did you ever think about me?”

  Kade turned Jen’s hand palm down and traced the back of it with her other hand. “If I say no, I’ll hurt your feelings. And if I say yes…” She dropped Jen’s hand as if suddenly becoming aware of what she was doing.

  “I might get the wrong idea?” Jen sighed. “Never mind. I shouldn’t have asked. That wasn’t fair of me. Good night, Kade. And honestly, thank—”

  “Yes.”

  “You.” Though they spoke over each other, Jen heard Kade perfectly. Jen knew she looked the part of a smitten adolescent, but she couldn’t help smiling broadly. Damn, Kade could make her feel good. She allowed herself a few more moments to soak up the contentment from not being alone in appreciating their special bond on Maui. Finally, she nodded and took her leave, enjoying the extra bounce in her step.

  Chapter Seven

  The next morning, Kade sat at the small conference table in her Matlock office, spooning yogurt into her mouth, when a knock at her door was quickly followed by Holly, who let herself in as she always did. Kade folded The Wall Street Journal and pushed a bowl of fruit toward Holly, who immediately snatched a piece of cantaloupe with Kade’s fork as she sat down.

  “Start talking,” Holly said, as she popped the bite into her mouth.

  Kade focused on scraping yogurt away from the sides of the plastic container. “Productive night overall. Better than expected.”

  Holly finished chewing and swallowed. “Yes. I got your list. Lists.”

  “Start with the names I put an—”

  “Asterisk by. Yes. I can read. Since when do you bail on Friday spin class?”

  “I didn’t. I was up, so I went to the five thirty instead of ours.”

  “Hence the 4:58 email adding another six contacts to the list you sent last night.”

  “We need to move quickly. If Creative Care doesn’t get proof points in short order, they’re sunk.”

  “I get that, but it doesn’t explain your level of involvement. Doling out contacts is one thing. Personally attending meetings is another thing entirely.”

  Kade appropriated her fork and fruit bowl, and dropped several blueberries into her yogurt. She gave Holly a sideways glance before unfolding her paper and pretending to read, hoping Holly would take the hint.

  Which, of course, she didn’t.

  “You like her,” Holly said as she commandeered the fruit again and unceremoniously flipped Kade’s paper to the table of contents.

  Kade sat back to give Holly space. “For a woman who has plenty of work to do, you seem rather inert.” Holly ignored her and ran her finger down the index listing. “What are you looking for?” Kade asked.

  “Sudoku.”

  “Not in the Journal.”

  With a look of disgust, Holly shoved the paper away and stood. “What’s the point?”

  “Work,” Kade said. “You should try it.”

  Holly flipped her off and left.

  * * *

  Kade and Jen’s late-Monday-afternoon appointment with UCSF’s head of administration, Suzanne Woods, had been a success. Suzanne acknowledged the cost constraints that tied her hands when it came to part-time staff hours and thought it possible that Creative Care could reduce employee turnover. However, she was concerned about losing staffers because caregivers might elect to work full-time as in-home aides registered with Creative Care instead of juggling two part-time jobs. Prepared for this objection, Kade placated her by touting the UCSF brand and reputation, saying caregivers would always want to opt for employment by the UC, other things being equal.

  Jen told Suzanne she’d draft a letter of intent between them and create a demo account for the hospital to check out the Creative Care offerings.

  They’d driven to the meeting separately, and once they were back in the parking lot, Kade congratulated Jen and wished her a pleasant evening. As she started toward her car, Jen’s voice stopped her.

  “Do you have dinner plans?”

  “Always.”

  “You eat out every night?”

  “That’s not what you asked.”

  Jen shifted her laptop bag to her other hand and furrowed her brow, as if in concentration. Kade found it adorable. “Do your dinner plans involve eating alone, or will one or more people be joining you?”

  “I’ll be reheating leftovers at seven and checking the Asian markets while I eat. Interested?” Kade only added that last bit because she knew no one would willingly subject themselves to the tasks in her weekly routine.

  “No. But how about having dinner with me tonight as a way to thank you for setting up the meeting with Suzanne?”

  Kade waved her off. “No need. Providing introductions is part of the job.”

  “Is joining me for customer meetings also part of the job?”

  It wasn’t. Kade knew it, and it sounded like Jen knew it, too. She could offer only two plausible explanations for why she’d insisted on joining. Either she didn’t trust Jen to do her job, or she wanted to spend time with Jen. The former wasn’t true. The more she worked with Jen, the more she appreciated her intellect and spirit. The latter was true, but she wasn’t comfortable admitting it to herself, much less to Jen.

  Kade thumbed in the direction of the building’s entrance. “It’s been a while since Suzanne and I have gotten a chance to catch up, so I thought I’d take the opportunity and tag along. I’m going to drop back in for a few.”

  “Which is why you were heading to your car.”

  Kade popped herself in the head. “My mind was on the meeting. You did great, by the way. See you tomorrow.” They were scheduled to meet with another San Francisco hospital administrator Kade knew. She waved and started toward the building.

  “You don’t trust me, do
you?” Jen called after her.

  Kade closed her eyes before turning around. She’d been naive to think Jen wouldn’t catch on to something, even if it was the wrong thing. She walked up to her and looked at her squarely, willing herself not to soften her gaze when beholding those magnificent blue eyes. “Do you honestly think I’d put my professional reputation on the line by taking meetings with a CEO I didn’t trust?”

  Jen stared back unflinchingly, refusing to be intimidated, refusing to back down. It was thrilling. “No. Is the only reason you joined me today because you wanted to catch up with Suzanne?”

  Kade blinked. “I thought I could help by being here.”

  “You did. So how can I thank you?”

  “Knock ’em dead tomorrow.”

  “I can do that.”

  “I have no doubt.”

  * * *

  Nana wasn’t having a good day. Something she’d eaten had given her diarrhea, and as Doreen recounted to Jen, by the time Doreen realized that Edna had needed an earlier bathroom visit, Edna had soiled the sheets. Doreen had strong-armed Edna into her wheelchair so she could take care of the bed in order to have a clean place to put her. Doreen had wiped Edna’s hands and forearms, but her lower quarters were still a mess when Jen arrived. They tag-teamed, Doreen working on the bed and Jen bathing Edna.

  Edna was embarrassed when these incidents occurred, which broke Jen’s heart. She grew quiet and avoided eye contact. Jen’s best defense in these situations was a good offense. She’d tell Nana about her day, from the highlights to the minutiae. Today she included Kade in her update, and even though she’d told Nana everything about Kade shortly after returning from Maui, she started from the beginning, letting Nana stop her if she wished.

  When Nana got quiet like this, Jen wasn’t sure whether she was indulging Jen by letting her retell a tale or whether, more likely, she hadn’t remembered it in the first place. Jen now knew it was the latter, because Nana kept asking versions of the same questions long after her bath.

  “You like her. This Kade,” Nana said.

  “Yes, I do.” Jen was rubbing lotion into Nana’s feet. Doreen had replaced the plastic mattress cover—ingenious device—changed the sheets, and washed the soiled ones, and now Nana was once again in bed. She was sitting up, propped by several pillows. Jen had covered Nana’s left foot with a slipper while she worked on the right.

  “Does she know?”

  They’d covered this territory. Getting frustrated didn’t help either of them, and while Jen occasionally succumbed to a short temper, most of the time she tried to pretend the repetition was a kind of mantra. “I don’t think so, no.”

  “Tell her.”

  “I should,” Jen said, not for the first time. “I’ll think about it.”

  “That means you won’t.”

  Jen smiled. “It means I’ll think about it.” She covered the foot she’d finished and removed the other slipper.

  “When two girls want to date, who asks?”

  “There aren’t any rules about it.”

  “But someone must be the boy. To ask.”

  Jen squirted more lotion onto her hands. “Girls ask boys all the time, Nana. Boys ask girls, boys ask boys, girls ask boys, girls ask girls.”

  “Do you like a girl?” And they were back. Jen’s mind flashed to the train set in Kade’s condo, passing through the same territory time and again.

  “I do.”

  “Does she know?”

  “I doubt it.”

  “Girls ask girls. So ask her.”

  * * *

  After receiving positive signals from the second hospital administrator they met with, Kade privately delighted in seeing the uncontained joy on Jen’s face as they stepped outside. Jen was an attractive woman, whose sharp mind made her all the more so, and when she smiled at Kade, Kade felt its warmth skitter across her skin like a tender caress.

  “We make a good team,” Jen said at the edge of the parking lot.

  “As much as it pleases me to take credit for success when I’ve done absolutely nothing to deserve it, I respectfully disagree. That was all you.”

  “He would have never agreed to meet with me, or certainly not so readily, had you not been involved. Without you, I’d be lucky to get onto his schedule by springtime.”

  Kade tipped an imaginary hat in Jen’s direction. “Until next time.” She stepped toward her car.

  “Wait.” Jen stopped Kade’s progress with a hand on her arm. “What are your plans for dinner? Please at least let me treat you to something other than leftovers and foreign stock markets.”

  Kade purposely eyed Jen’s hand before meeting her gaze, recognizing the ever-present current between them. It called for boundaries. “On one condition.”

  “Name it.”

  “It’s not a date.”

  Jen nodded. “Not a date.” She said it so matter-of-factly that Kade doubted she’d gotten through.

  Kade tried again. “It’s a dinner between colleagues.”

  Jen offered a sickeningly sweet smile. “What else would it be?”

  Kade didn’t want to presume Jen was thinking of this as anything other than a shared meal between board members. Maybe it was just she who thought that way about Jen, and it was a one-way street. She dropped it.

  “What time were the leftovers being reheated?” Jen asked.

  “Seven.”

  “Pick you up then.”

  Chapter Eight

  Buoyed by her meeting and thrilled at the prospect of having dinner with Kade, Jen switched into seduction mode—well, as far as she was capable, which wasn’t much to speak of. She didn’t have an array of suggestive outfits, and she didn’t consider herself sexy. Cute, she’d been told over the years. Usually girl-next-door or All-American-girl pretty, compliments she wasn’t overly fond of. Also wholesome—a term far worse than anything with the word “girl” in it. One simply did not get their game on with someone wholesome. But she did have certain assets, and she was in the mood to advertise them, despite Kade’s not-a-date rule.

  Changing out of the classic but drab business skirt, she opted for a periwinkle dress that highlighted her eyes, showed off her legs, hugged her flat stomach, and accentuated her cleavage with its in-sewn C cup. Mid-height heels, earrings, and a silver necklace completed the outfit. She touched on a little makeup and re-curled the ends of her long hair to give it more body. Had Kade not just seen her, she would have put her hair up for added neck exposure, but that seemed a little too desperate.

  She placed a call to her grandmother’s house and was relieved when Candace, Nana’s other primary caregiver, answered, which meant she’d recently begun her shift. Tonight Jen wouldn’t be left with a too-familiar last-minute scramble for care coverage.

  This was her first night off work in far too long, and Jen planned to enjoy it. Had Kade declined, Jen would have stopped by Nana’s before heading home and working until midnight. As she took one last glance in the mirror, she was pleased to see that the crushing blow her Creative Care hours had delivered to her workout schedule hadn’t yet resulted in an expansion of her belly, though its previous tautness had long ago given way to its present softness.

  When Kade opened her front door to Jen, Jen mentally threw a fist into the air at her reaction. She openly and slowly appraised Jen from head to toe. For a second, she seemed poised to speak. But then she took a breath and slowly exhaled. “Oh boy,” she muttered.

  Kade had settled for a more casual look, managing to look stunning in simple black slacks and an emerald V-neck sweater, which brought out the green flecks in her eyes.

  “You look great,” Jen said, and meant it.

  “I look like roadkill next to you, but thank you.” Kade grabbed her purse from the entryway table and locked the door. “I’m all yours.” She said it as she turned and practically ran into Jen, who hadn’t moved.

  “All mine?” Jen asked, advancing into what little space had remained between them. She cupped Kade’s
chin and brought their mouths dangerously close together. Her heart rate shot up as she heard a tiny whimper from Kade, who made no effort to step back. “If only this were a date,” she whispered, fighting the desire to kiss Kade, whose lips had parted slightly as if in anticipation. She’d only meant to tease, and now she was the one being teased.

  She abruptly retreated and dropped her hand, working to regain control of her breathing. “After you,” she said, tilting her head toward the elevators.

  Kade blinked. And closed her mouth. Then she set her jaw and marched ahead.

  During the ride to the cozy Italian restaurant Jen had chosen, they picked apart the meetings they’d had over the past two days in order to refine Jen’s message, using their observations of the administrators’ reactions to certain ideas. Jen found Kade’s experience and input invaluable, once again appreciating that Kade actively sought her take on things versus dictating a to-do list. But Jen didn’t want tonight to be about work, and although she mentally filed away recommendations on handling future Creative Care meetings, she wanted to lay some ground rules. Aside from the fact that it wasn’t a date.

  When she parked on the street in front of the restaurant, she turned to Kade. “Would it be all right with you if we don’t talk shop tonight?”

  Kade eyed her skeptically. “We can try, but I’m afraid I’m a bit of a one-note wonder.”

  “I disagree.”

  “Hugely surprising,” Kade said sarcastically.

  They sat tucked away in a romantically lit corner of the restaurant, bantering with the waiter over specials and informing him of their selections. He returned with the Prosecco they ordered, poured them each a glass, and set the bottle down before departing.

  Jen extended her glass to Kade. “Thank you for everything you’re doing for Creative Care, Kade. I’ve never been more confident of our success.”

  “May you succeed,” Kade said before clinking glasses and sipping the bubbly.