It's Not a Date

by Heather Blackmore

  “I’m asking the questions. Who singlehandedly jump-started Creative Care’s referral program?”

  “Who rushed to judgment when you couldn’t make it to those meet—”

  Jen clasped her hand over Kade’s mouth. “God, you’re terrible at this.” Jen slid an arm around Kade’s waist and brushed Kade’s hair off a shoulder with her other hand. She dropped kisses along the exposed skin. “Who gave me an incredible orgasm a little while ago?”

  Kade angled her head to allow Jen greater access. “I did.”

  “Mmm-hmm.” Nuzzling at the crook between Kade’s neck and shoulder, Jen said, “Move your eyes to me and ask me how I’m feeling.”

  “How are you feeling?”

  Jen smiled. “I’m happy.”

  Kade returned Jen’s smile. “It looks good on you.” Kade liked the way Jen’s statement made her feel. Jen’s happiness mattered.

  “It does. Now look at yourself while I say it again.”

  It wasn’t easy to not make eye contact with someone speaking to her, but Kade acquiesced.

  “You make me happy,” Jen said.

  “I’m glad.”

  “Do you see that? Your expression closes slightly, like the tone of your voice. They both stiffen. You’re not comfortable hearing me say that, and you’re not glad.”

  Kade couldn’t disagree. Part of her wanted to be able to make Jen happy, yet another part wanted Jen to find happiness with someone else.

  Jen turned Kade around and cradled her face in her hand before kissing her. She slid her other hand down Kade’s back and cupped her ass, pulling their bodies together. As always, Kade immediately responded, holding Jen to her and savoring the press of breast to breast, thigh to thigh, belly to belly. Jen gently nibbled Kade’s bottom lip before releasing her and shifting her to once again face the mirror. Kade could see as well as feel the more rapid rise and fall of her chest before her breathing returned to normal.

  “Now,” Jen said as she threaded her fingers in Kade’s damp hair and massaged her scalp. “Close your eyes. Think of my mouth on yours, my hands and tongue worshipping your body, the sound of my voice instructing and cherishing you, hours of uninterrupted time together.”

  “Mmm.” Kade heard herself moan in appreciation of her imagination’s visuals and Jen’s seductive murmuring.

  Jen’s arms encircled Kade’s waist, and she kissed the back of her neck. “Open your eyes.” Kade found Jen’s eyes in the mirror. Jen said, “Now look at you.” Kade met her own gaze. She watched and felt Jen kiss her temple, then her cheek, then below her ear. She covered Jen’s arms with hers. Jen continued. “That is how being with me makes you feel. That’s what I see when I’m sharing myself with you. Amazing, isn’t it? Look at you. You’re luminous. Breathtaking.”

  Without a doubt, Kade felt treasured. She didn’t understand the logic behind the feeling, but it was unmistakable. Jen rested her chin on her shoulder, tenderness exuding from her gorgeous blue eyes that met hers once again via the mirror.

  “Do one thing for me?” Jen asked.

  “There are few things I wouldn’t do for you, if I could.”

  “Don’t laugh at what I’m about to say, because I’ve never been more serious. Got it?”

  Kade nodded, surprised by the sudden solemnity of Jen’s tone.

  Jen pointed to their images before wrapping her arms around Kade. “Say this with me. ‘I deserve to be loved.’”

  Jen’s earnestness stripped Kade of her tendency to deflect, and she stifled the sarcastic reply on her tongue. Holy cow. Jen actually expected her to say the words genuinely.

  Kade’s features quickly blurred through her tears. She opened her mouth to speak, but her throat closed, and she dropped her gaze.

  “Tall order for you, I know. But it’s true. You do.” Again Jen kissed her temple. “You may be the boss, but I’m giving you homework. Next time I see you, I want to hear you say it, and I want to hear in your voice that you believe it.”

  Why were the words “next time” sending a thrill along Kade’s spine? Why was she struck by hope? Why was she feeling a shade optimistic she might somehow break the cycle of hurting people she cared for? Was she so desperate for the possibility of a future with Jen that she was willing to cast aside her certainty of causing Jen pain when all facts dictated its inevitability?

  Kade turned in the circle of Jen’s arms and faced her. “Say that again.”

  “You deserve to be loved?”

  “No. Next time. Say next time.”

  With a kiss to her nose, Jen said, “Next time I see you.”

  “I don’t want to aim for deserving to be loved. I want to aim for deserving to be loved by you.” Kade brushed away a renegade tear. “I want there to be a next time. And a time after that.”

  Kade was heartened by the obvious pleasure in Jen’s expression. She didn’t understand why Jen felt she was worthy of love, but she no longer wanted to be the one providing arguments against her own best chance for happiness. She might never be able to look Jen in the eye and repeat the words asked of her—after all, she’d been telling herself the opposite her entire adult life. But if anyone merited a Sisyphean undertaking, it was Jen. “Tell me I have a chance.”

  Jen held up her thumb and forefinger millimeters apart to indicate Kade’s chances, but her smile belied the gesture.

  Kade kissed her soundly. “I’ll take it.”

  * * *

  Jen walked back and forth along Kade’s small veranda, talking on the phone to Nana, wearing the same white, long-sleeve shirt she’d arrived in over lacy, black bikinis. Kade was certain it was among the top ten most magnificent visions she’d ever seen. Tasked with scooping sorbet into two mugs, Kade was failing spectacularly, unable to take her eyes off her. Dessert melted slightly with each passing second.

  Jen ended the call and slid the door closed behind her. She sat on a kitchen stool, planted an elbow, and rested her chin in her palm. Her expression was open and content. Kade had never seen anything more beautiful. Warmth emanated from Jen’s eyes and coursed through Kade like a shot of fine whiskey.

  “How is this going to work?” Jen asked.

  Kade looked down at the now-runny strawberry sorbet. “You mean, do I have any straws?”

  “No, silly. I mean, how do I see you? Do I have to book appointments?” Jen’s tone was light. Teasing.

  “I’m not exactly an expert, but I think they’re called dates.” Kade covered the container and returned it to the freezer, removing a pint of lemon sorbet in its stead.

  “Does this mean we’re dating?”

  Kade frowned. Dating sounded far more casual than what she wanted with Jen. Selfishly, she wanted Jen to herself. But maybe she was alone in that desire. Focusing on dishing out the frozen dessert, she said, “Sure.”

  “Sure?” Jen’s tone wasn’t.

  “Sounds good,” Kade said as she dropped a spoonful of sorbet into a mug. Not wanting to sour the mood, she added, “Let’s pick a night.”

  No, no, no. She was doing it wrong, sensed an unwanted shift in her own demeanor. Jen deserved better. Kade set the spoon down and met Jen’s eyes, more guarded than they’d been moments ago. “Damn it. Yes. Yes, I’d love to date you.” She moved behind Jen and put her arms around her, entwining their fingers. “Sorry my hands are cold.” She dropped a kiss below her ear and pushed past the fear of rejection. “What I really want is to see you exclusively. If that’s not what you want, I’ll take what I can get. But I’m telling you now, the idea of dating you doesn’t come close to capturing how I feel about you.”

  Jen turned in Kade’s arms and cupped her chin. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?” She gave Kade a quick kiss, her smile flooding Kade with relief.

  “Are you kidding? I’ve just aged ten years. We’re definitively into May-December romance territory now.”

  “Nana has a spare walker you can borrow.”

  Kade patted Jen’s nose with her index finger. “And here I thought you were
the nice one.”

  “Does that make you the naughty one?”

  Kade released Jen, lidded the sorbet, and returned it to the freezer. Dessert, of the frozen variety, could wait. She extended her hand to Jen with a prurient smile. “Let’s find out.”

  Later, as they lay in bed talking, with Kade on her back lazily caressing Jen with one hand, and Jen lying half on the sheets, half on Kade, Jen asked, “What changed your mind? About us?”

  Kade knew what she was asking but replied with, “The sex.” This was followed by “Ow,” as she rubbed her upper arm where Jen had swiftly pinched her, waiting for the real answer. “I don’t think I have. I’m still afraid of hurting you, selfish for wanting this.”

  “It’s only selfish if you’re primarily concerned with yourself, which is never the case with you.”

  Stifling a self-deprecating reply, Kade tried to answer honestly. “You rub off on people. On me. In a good way. The person I am when I’m with you…I’m intrigued by her. She—I should say, I—see things in a more positive light. If I can be the person you seem to see, the person I want to see, I’m hoping it outweighs my selfishness in proceeding with us despite my fears.”

  “The greater good?” Jen asked, humor in her voice.

  “Laughing at me?” Kade replied lightly.

  “It’s sweet, your answer. And funny. A little funny.”

  “How so?”

  “For an intelligent woman, you can be very thick.” She rested her palm over Kade’s heart. “Those things you like about you? They’re already here.”

  Kade cast a doubtful scowl. “Hibernating?”

  Jen laughed, a sound lovelier than any symphony Kade had ever heard. “You’re a woman of action, Kade. Nothing about you could remain dormant for long. I think circumstances beyond your control have shaped the way you see yourself. I simply provide you with an alternate lens.” She kissed Kade softly. “An accurate one.”

  The comment mirrored Holly’s so closely, Kade wondered if she should give more credence to it than she was inclined to.

  “What are you thinking?” Jen asked, slowly caressing Kade’s cheek with her fingers.

  “Holly said something similar.” With a quick kiss, Kade rose and went to fetch the kaleidoscope. She handed it to Jen and turned on a reading light. As Jen studied it and peered into it toward the light, Kade said, “She gave me this before I visited my father in his new place. Said the way he sees the world, and me, isn’t how others do.”

  “What a beautiful gift and sentiment.”

  “Yes.”

  Jen set it down and shifted onto her stomach before gently tapping the side of Kade’s head. “Are we getting through?”

  Kade took Jen’s hand and kissed the nudging finger. “I’m glad to have people in my life who are trying.”

  Jen propped herself on her elbows. “That is an evasive, bullshit answer.”

  Kade laughed. “I love how you talk to me. So deferential.”

  “Respect is earned, sunshine.”

  Leaning in for a gentle kiss, Kade said, “I’ve been called a lot of things. Sunshine isn’t one of them.”

  “A new day is dawning.”

  She traced her fingers across Jen’s lips. “I like how it’s starting.”

  “Me, too.”

  Chapter Twenty-two

  A call from Kade interrupted Jen’s busy Monday morning. She left her cubicle to take it in the conference room. “Hey, you,” she said by way of answer.

  “Have dinner with me tonight,” Kade said.

  Jen chuckled. “We just had dinner last night.”

  “I love how nothing slips past you.”

  “How is it that your schedule is suddenly so flexible? I would have thought you already had plans tonight.”

  “I do most of my research in the evenings. This is no different.”

  “Oh? What are you researching?”

  “Your body.”

  Jen blushed. Although alone in a closed conference room, she dropped her voice. “Kade. I’m at work.”

  “And I’d like to get back to my research.”

  Jen chewed her lip. The idea of seeing Kade and the explorations they could undertake brought more heat to her cheeks. Tempting, though tough to pull off tonight. She had massive amounts of work to get through—not the least of which was a follow-up call with Roger Daniels from Matlock Ventures—and wanted time to visit with Nana. Had Kade not brought up Matlock’s interest in Creative Care because she wasn’t aware Roger was pursuing it or because she didn’t want to get Jen’s hopes up if things didn’t pan out on that front? In either case, they wouldn’t have much to discuss if it was a dead-end, and she’d find out soon enough.

  She couldn’t think of an easy way to carve out a scheduled, sit-down dinner. She’d be fortunate to grab something to eat on the way home. “These are probably among the worst words you ever want to hear, but can we play it by ear? I don’t think I can confidently specify a dinner time tonight, and I’d hate to be late.”

  “Hmm. How about this? I’ll order takeout. You’ll drop by whenever you can, and I’ll have a glass of wine with your name on it for you to consume while I reheat your dinner. No expectations, and if you can’t swing it, no problem, though I’ll probably call to check in.”

  “Who are you, and what have you done with Ms. Davenport?”

  Kade laughed, sounding as carefree as Jen had ever heard her. She hoped to make time for Kade tonight if only to hear it again.

  “Whoever you are, you have yourself a deal,” Jen said.

  * * *

  “Excuse me,” Kade said as she approached the nurses’ station. She’d briefly popped into her father’s room and couldn’t locate his computer tablet, and Gordon wasn’t able to help. A kind-faced, forty-something nurse glanced up and removed her reading glasses.

  “Yes?”

  “What happened to my father’s tablet?”

  “Who’s your father?”

  “Gordon Davenport. Room four-ten.”

  “One moment.” The woman donned her glasses and consulted her computer screen, bending forward so much that Kade wondered if her glasses were the Clark Kent variety—worthless save for hiding an alter ego. “Oh, yes, it’s in one of the security lockers. I can have someone fetch it for you if you’d like.”

  “Why isn’t it in his room?”

  “Theft prevention. Residents’ valuables remain secured unless checked out.”

  “I bought the tablet specifically to assist in my father’s rehab. He’d make more progress if it was available to him whenever he wants it.”

  “I’m sorry, ma’am. It’s policy.”

  Kade pondered this information while the nurse dialed someone and instructed them on retrieving the device. This facility had state-of-the-art equipment in its gym as well as physical, occupational, and speech therapists to help expedite patient recovery. Why wouldn’t they have rehabilitation tools in all the rooms for those who were homework-inclined? Retractable folding wall- or bedframe-mounts could store them out of the way when not in use, and the loaded software could be centrally administered to prevent illegal, harmful, or other non-rehab-specific activities.

  As Kade waited, the nurse doffed her glasses and asked, “Has he been receptive to using the tablet?”

  Kade nodded. “So far. That’s why I think it should be kept beside him.”

  The nurse smiled. “You must have a special way with him. His speech therapist says he hasn’t shown much interest in working with her. But it’s early going. Many residents require time to adjust to needing care.”

  This was news. Aside from the first day, Gordon hadn’t hesitated when she used the device with him. She’d brought him here to improve, not while away the days. After an aide approached and handed her the tablet, Kade told the nurse, “I’d like this to remain in his room at all times. I’m happy to sign a waiver stating that I won’t hold the facility liable if anything happens to it, be it theft or damage.”

  “You’ll
have to speak with one of our administrators.”

  Kade opened her purse and extracted a business card. “Fine. Please have someone contact me as soon as possible. I’ll be here for another hour. After that, I can be reached at this number.” Kade scanned the woman’s nametag. “Theresa, how many people here are recovering from a stroke?”

  “Forty out of our hundred and sixty beds are for stroke and cardiac patients, so at least twenty at any given time.”

  “Couldn’t all of them benefit from having therapeutic tools of some kind next to their beds, versus waiting for their daily gym session?”

  “Many of them could, yes.”

  “The sooner they get help, the better their chances for recovery. Isn’t that right?”

  “Yes.”

  An idea was germinating. There had to be a far better way to get rehabilitation technology into the hands of stroke victims, which according to her limited knowledge numbered eight hundred thousand Americans annually. Kade thought back to the first facility her father had been transferred to from the hospital, the one Jen had visited with her. It was a place for people with scant financial resources, and if it offered any rehabilitation services, which Kade couldn’t recall, she was sure the technology would be outdated. Successful recovery tools shouldn’t be limited to those who could afford it. They should be available to those who needed it.

  Kade returned to her father’s room and stood inside the doorway. Having been on a mission to locate his tablet earlier, she hadn’t taken the time to appreciate the train now traveling around the perimeter of the room.

  Gordon was watching it move steadily along its tracks. The train passed a water tower, bridge and railroad crossings, a forest, a coal mine, a hot-air balloon, and a circus with moving rides, including a Ferris wheel, merry-go-round, and a roller coaster, all with working lights. Gordon’s room was small, which limited the scenery options, but the workers she’d hired had made the most of the space.

  Kade observed Gordon for several minutes before making her presence known. He seemed content and engaged, the train providing a link to his life before his stroke. Kade wasn’t familiar with what his world was like before he wound up here. But as she looked around at the miniature scenery and saw the satisfaction in his eyes, she realized this was his home now, for however long he needed to be here. It was a rehabilitation facility, not hospice care. It was a place for living, designed to assist the residents in their journeys to recover at least some degree from their ailments.