“I’m somewhat close to my mom,” Kade said as she offered Jen a bite. “My father and I are cordial at best. I inherited all his worst qualities.”
“Do tell.”
“Hyper-disciplined, obsessive about cleanliness. Blows a gasket if you’re five seconds late. What else? Sexist. Warm as an arctic winter.”
“Well, you obviously didn’t inherit all those qualities.”
“I’m not sexist,” Kade said as she gently pulled a berry into her mouth from her fork tines. Jen sensed Kade was completely unaware of how provocative she was, which ratcheted up her sexiness tenfold.
“Oh, come on. From what I’ve seen, none of that describes you.”
Kade shrugged. “I got lucky for a while. I had other role models. When I was eleven, we settled into a new neighborhood where I met my best friend, Cassie. I practically lived at her house, and her parents treated me like one of their own. That’s who I think of as my family.”
“I’m glad you had them.”
Kade gazed at Jen as if she were the answer to something, and then her expression closed. She glanced at her watch and signed the bill to her room. “You need to get to your panel.”
Jen took Kade’s hand and interlaced their fingers. “Where did you go just now?”
Kade caressed Jen with her thumb. “You remind me of her. Of Cassie.” Jen could see Kade’s eyes soften in the dim light. “Same smile. Same warmth.” Kade got out of her chair and squatted next to Jen’s, taking Jen’s hand in both of hers. The adoration and affection she looked up at Jen with stole Jen’s breath. “Jen Spencer, you’ve been an absolute gift to me these last nineteen, twenty hours.” She rose and kissed Jen’s forehead. “Thank you,” she whispered. She caressed Jen’s cheek before softly kissing her mouth. “Thank you.” Then she walked away.
* * *
The panel was a blur. Jen was thankful she’d rehearsed her brief spiel about who she was and what her company was building, because the other parts of her brain had shut down. The moderator skillfully elicited audience participation, Jen didn’t make a fool of herself in front of Miranda McArthur, and she had no idea about the rest. She was completely swept up in Kade Delaney.
Wanting the keynote speech to end before it even started, Jen was currently favoring a plan that had her bailing on the meet-and-greet afterward so she could find Kade and figure out what was between them.
Then the auditorium lights went dark, and the stage lit up. The CEO of the conference sponsor was onstage, introducing the main speaker, who was apparently the author of some best-selling leadership book as well as partner of a venture capital, or VC, firm. He provided a laundry list of the speaker’s accomplishments, and Jen wanted him to get on with it. When he said, “Please welcome Kadrienne Davenport,” the spotlight illuminated Kade, who waved to the audience as she walked back and forth during the applause.
Jen was spellbound. Kade—her Kade—was Kadrienne Davenport? She probed her numbed mind for Kade’s answer to her question about which panel she was on. I’m not on one. Had she really experienced the single best day of her life with a woman known for breaking CEOs and authoring a book on what it takes to be a leader in today’s global economy? Good God. And here was little Jen Spencer, with her tiny startup and a puny million in seed financing, acting as Kade’s equal. Worse, coming on to her!
The spell Jen was under lasted during Kade’s entire speech and the audience Q&A session. Kade was mesmerizing. She’d changed clothes, put on some makeup, and arranged her hair in a clip. Her time in the sun gave her a healthy glow. She was flawless in her pantsuit, commanding on stage, and conversant on a range of topics. Amazing.
And then Kade was finished. After the applause died down, an announcer reminded everyone about the mixer getting underway. Should Jen stand among the throngs trying to get a word with Kade? Should she avoid her? Could she get her head into the game long enough to survive an evening of small talk with other attendees, which she had zero desire to engage in?
She found herself walking through the crowd, drink in hand, rudderless. She didn’t want to see anyone here except Kade. And with so many participants, she couldn’t spot Kade anywhere. She decided to ask. Finally, after speaking with half a dozen people, she learned that Kade wasn’t attending. That was all she needed. She set her drink on a table and left the ballroom.
Upon opening the suite door, Jen immediately knew Kade was gone. She went to Kade’s room and confirmed her suspicion. Kade hadn’t wanted the time off that her assistant had imposed on her, so she would be on the next flight off the island, likely a private charter.
Hadn’t wanted the time off. That’s what kept playing in Jen’s head. Kade hadn’t even wanted the day that exceeded Jen’s finest dreams.
Jen sank onto Kade’s bed and thought of how she’d acted. As an equal. As a partner to Kadrienne effing Davenport. She laughed—embarrassed, confounded. Kade had treated her as an equal. She’d conversed with humor and intelligence, and participated fully in kisses that Jen damn well knew were extraordinary. She hadn’t sought any diversion from her original schedule, yet she’d embraced their time together completely. Well, Jen might not know much about Kadrienne Davenport, but she was confident she had learned a lot about Kade Delaney. Too bad Ms. Delaney wasn’t allowed to come out and play very often.
Chapter Four
One Year Later
Kade was in the large conference room of her firm’s Menlo Park office, working hard to remain in her seat. The executives of a new office-productivity software application were now several minutes over their allotted time, and she wasn’t interested in hearing more. No matter how efficient a new integrated time-management system might be, she couldn’t get excited at the prospect of an investment when its owners couldn’t keep to a schedule. The irony was lost on the group. Usually Holly would promptly call or personally interrupt a meeting that ran long, but Holly was out on an errand.
When Kade’s phone vibrated, she excused herself and headed to her office. “Charles, what a pleasant surprise. What can I do for you?” Kade asked. Charles Jameson was an angel investor who occasionally wrote large checks for companies he felt passionate about, and Kade’s first foray into the tech startup world had been one such investment. Charles had been impressed by the then twenty-one-year-old CEO, and he had become a mentor to her over the years. He was one of less than a handful of advisors who had her complete respect.
“Start another company and make us both rich, Kade.” It was his normal greeting, though his voice didn’t carry its typical strength.
“I’ve done that twice now, Charles. I’m retired, remember?” Retirement was a longstanding joke between them. At thirty-three, with more money than she could ever spend as a result of selling her first two companies, Kade was no closer to retirement than she’d been in the womb. Same with Charles, who, at nearly sixty, liked to say that his marriage depended on his business ventures because his wife would divorce him if he didn’t get out of the house. “You sound a little under the weather.”
“Under a freight train, more like. I’m calling from the hospital. You wouldn’t believe what I’ve had to go through to get these damn nurses to give me my phone.”
Kade passed through her office doorway and shut the door. “Please tell me you’re on the mend from whatever’s landed you there, my friend.”
“Heart attack, double bypass. All’s well except for the food. And the damn drugs. If I behave myself, I’ll be good as new in no time.”
“If you were to behave yourself, I wouldn’t recognize you.”
“Two peas in a pod, eh? Look, Kade. I need a favor. I’m on the board of a few startups that might need some attention until I’m back on my feet. I know you have your hands full in prima-donna land, but there’s no one I trust more. Can I count on you?”
According to Charles, venture capitalists were a bunch of divas that helped startups like sugar helped dieting. To him, most were ivory-tower-living folks who failed to understand the majo
r execution challenges facing their portfolio companies yet rarely allowed this fact to stop them from offering advice. One of the rare times Kade hadn’t heeded Charles’s counsel was when she’d accepted the offer of partner in Matlock Ventures. Kade believed she could help her portfolio companies because she had direct experience running two startups, and Charles thought she was an exception among her VC colleagues.
“Of course. Have Pamela give Holly the details, and I’ll have company counsel draft the paperwork to transfer your board seats to me on an interim basis. Can you e-sign?” Pamela was Charles’s longtime assistant.
Charles laughed, sounding like he had marbles in his chest. “You know Pamela signs all that stuff. I haven’t even signed a tax return in twenty years.”
“Consider it done. And please take care of yourself and listen to your doctors.”
Charles groaned his complaint. “Kade? Thank you.” He ended the call.
Kade sat at her desk and typed the password to her laptop. She was about to email Holly, but Holly knocked and entered without waiting for a reply. Typical.
“How is Charles?” Holly asked. “Did he say when he’ll be released?”
Kade didn’t bother asking how Holly knew she was off the phone or that Charles was in the hospital. Holly had a sixth sense. And probably spyware. And webcams. Wire taps, maybe. Kade had long ago stopped wondering how Holly got her information and simply accepted her gift. In this case, odds were that Pamela and Holly were in cahoots, but Kade preferred not to be informed. She got a kick out of thinking Holly had some sort of superpower when it came to knowing things about her life, except for those times when Holly played matchmaker or otherwise insinuated herself in Kade’s nonexistent love life.
“He didn’t, but he sounds ornery. I imagine the nurses have their hands full. Would you send over a plant or some flowers?” Kade shook her head. “Scratch that. Send golf balls, some tees, and a gift certificate for a new putter as a recovery incentive. And a Playboy.”
“Already done. Except it’s gloves instead of tees, a certificate for eighteen holes, and a Penthouse.”
“You rake.”
Holly shrugged. “Better articles.”
“Looks like I’m going to have to keep the eggs warm in his startup nest for a little while. Would you ask Pamela—”
“He’s on three boards. Counsel for each company has been notified. We should see paperwork from each of them by end of day, naming you officially. One has a board meeting at ten tomorrow in Palo Alto. Pamela gave me the details, and the address is in your calendar. I’ve moved your ten o’clock to three and punted the three to Thursday.”
“Please make sure they know—”
“Ten o’clock, sharp. They’ve been informed.”
“Why do I even need to be here?”
“To play token female partner at the all-white-boys club.”
“Oh, right.”
* * *
Kade’s irritation was spiraling ever higher. She’d found the Creative Care office only because of her phone’s GPS. It was located on the second story of a strip mall that didn’t appear to have a second floor, and it took two trips around the parking lot to find a staircase. Thankfully, Holly had provided the suite number since the company’s name wasn’t posted on the door. And now she sat in a windowless conference room at 10:13 a.m. and didn’t bother to hide her displeasure.
Grabbing her purse, she stood and addressed the company’s twenty-something co-founder, who had spent the last few minutes typing furiously on his laptop, avoiding eye contact, and probably fearing for his job. “I’m sorry, Jeremy. I don’t have time for this. This meeting was supposed to start at ten. I don’t know anything about Creative Care and anticipated needing the full hour to get up to speed, but clearly that’s not happening. Charles is much more forgiving than I am, and I’m sure you can reschedule once he’s back online. Good luck to you.” She nodded and headed for the door. It opened before she reached it.
A woman rushed in and spoke while glancing down to drop her keys into her bag. “I’m so sorry I’m late. There was a multicar pileup on the freeway, with CHP and fire eng—ohmygod.” Jen looked up and stopped mid-sentence as her eyes met Kade’s.
Kade stepped back and let her eyes briefly roam over Jen’s body. Jennifer Spencer was beautiful in a pale-blue skirt suit that accentuated her dazzling eyes, which were abnormally wide and communicating that she was as startled as Kade. Her blond hair was down, cascading over her shoulders with girl-next-door simplicity that reminded Kade of her natural approachability and warmth. Kade couldn’t remember ever feeling so blindsided.
“What are you doing here?” Jen asked, clutching her purse to her chest as if shielding herself from Kade’s presence.
Kade stood taller, trying to project a calm indifference she wasn’t feeling. She nodded at Jen, the entirety of the greeting she could manage. “If you’ll excuse me.” She brushed past Jen without looking back.
* * *
“What the hell was she doing here?” Jen asked Jeremy, which came out like an accusation. She raised a palm in apology and took a breath. “Sorry, Jeremy. I mean, why was Kadrienne Davenport here just now?”
“You know her?”
“Everyone in Silicon Valley knows her. Of course I know her.”
“I know of her. Everyone knows of her. But you actually know her know her?”
Jen waved him off and shook her head. “Not really. No. She’s…ugh. Are we ready to start? Is Andrew on the line? Where’s Charles’s stand-in?”
“I told Andrew we’d dial him in. And that…” Jeremy pointed out the door, “or should I say she, is your new boss. Hand-selected by Charles.”
Jen felt the blood rush from her face. She steadied herself with a hand on the back of a chair. Jeremy quickly handed her a bottle of water as she dropped into the seat. “Jen?”
“That can’t…we can’t…she can’t…no. Please get Andrew on the phone. Now.” Jen took a swig of the water and waited for Jeremy to get through. Once the company’s attorney was on speakerphone, Jen said, “Andrew, it’s Jen Spencer and Jeremy Corbin. Today’s meeting’s been cancelled. Listen. Do we have any way of vetoing Charles’s choice for his board seat?”
“No. Someone has to represent the investors, and since he’s the majority preferred stockholder, it’s his seat.”
That wasn’t the answer she’d hoped for. “What are our options?”
“To get rid of her?”
Jen looked at Jeremy as she replied, knowing she owed him an explanation. “Yes.”
“They’re limited, Jen. You can contact Charles, communicate your concerns, and see if he’ll either keep the seat himself during his recuperation or appoint a different person to represent the investors. But as of now, the paperwork’s completed. You have the common seat, Ms. Davenport has the preferred seat, and the third seat remains open.”
Jen was quiet.
“Jen?” Andrew asked.
“We’re still here,” Jen said dejectedly.
“I want you to consider three things,” Andrew said. “First, I’ve worked with Charles multiple times. He can’t abide B players. He must hold Ms. Davenport in extremely high regard to ask her to take his board seat. So if you approach him about this issue, make sure you have your facts straight. Second, consider his health and the interim nature of the appointment. Is this something you really want to bother him with at this time, for what’s probably a very limited duration? Lastly, consider Ms. Davenport’s credentials. She’s served on a number of boards and works for a highly respected firm in the Valley. Not only might you learn something from her, but she’s very well connected. Is this a person you want to be known for trying to kick off your board?”
“Good advice, Andrew. I’ll talk to Jeremy, and we’ll call you back if we need you.”
When the call ended, Jeremy spoke. “Mind telling me what’s going on? Getting someone like Kadrienne Davenport on our team is a major coup for a company our size. Instant cre
dibility. What’s your problem with her?”
Jen rubbed her face with her hands. Jeremy was her friend and first hire, and he’d been so strong out of the gate as her chief technology officer that she’d offered him co-founder status and stock. He deserved the truth. “Don’t hate me.”
“Uh-oh.”
“My trip to Maui last year. What comes to mind?”
Jeremy shifted his gaze to the ceiling in contemplation. “Uh…conference? Um…” He locked eyes with her and slapped the table. “Hot woman you came on to and were mortified by once you found out who she was?”
“Bingo.”
“Ho-ly shit.”
Jen could only nod. “I was hoping I’d never see her again.”
“Liar. She’s fucking gorgeous.”
“Not helpful,” Jen replied in a sing-song manner.
“She’s a viper. Practically made me pee my pants.”
“Better.” Jen appreciated Jeremy’s ways of sticking up for her. “She does actually have something of a reputation as a—well, let’s say hard-nose. Trust me. I binge-Googled the hell out of her after Maui. But I don’t want to be one of those people, tearing a woman down because she’s successful. She’s found something that works for her. More power to her.” Not that the renowned Kadrienne Davenport would ever give her the time of day anyway, but the last thing Jen needed was to be distracted at work, where she had to be constantly firing on all cylinders. Workplace inequality was alive and well in Silicon Valley, with women having to continually prove themselves capable of the C-level positions historically awarded to men, all the while juggling the imbalanced weight of their responsibilities at home.
“Does it, though?” Jeremy asked.
“Does it what?”
“Work for her. The Maui woman you fell for sounded nothing—”
“I didn’t fall. I was…charmed. Mildly.”
“O-kaaay. The charmer you described was nothing like the woman who was here. And the woman who was here is not your type whatsoever. I was trapped for not even fifteen minutes, and still my life flashed before my eyes.”
It's Not a Date Page 4
