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A slow blush warmed her cheeks. Iris’s unsteady gaze dropped. He was glad she was here for the product launch. She knew that’s what he’d meant. Then why did she want him to mean something more?
* * *
Tyler’s caller identification screen displayed Kimball & Associates’ phone number. So, his former marketing consulting firm had decided to return his messages. It was after five o’clock on Friday afternoon, more than a week after the proposal deadline.
Where had they been this morning, before he’d signed the contract with Iris—and barely survived their first project meeting? Better yet, where had they been a week ago, when he’d called to ask for their proposal? He swallowed a sigh and picked up the phone.
“Tyler Anderson.” His voice was tight.
“Ty! It’s Pete Kimball. How are you?”
“Fine, Pete. How can I help you?”
Peter must have keyed into Tyler’s cool tone. He pumped up the energy and enthusiasm in his voice as though hoping to break through the ice. “Hey, thank you for giving us an opportunity to submit a proposal for your launch. I’m getting ready to send it over to you now.”
Tyler rubbed his eyes. “It’s March twentieth. The deadline was more than a week ago.”
“I know, Ty. We’ve just been so lousy busy around here lately.”
“Is that the reason you didn’t return my messages? I left several.”
“Yeah, it’s just been crazy. I’m really sorry about that.”
“I’m sorry, too, Pete.” Tyler went back to the summary he was drafting on the latest test results for “Osiris’s Journey.” They were dismal. And he was running out of time. “There’s no point in your submitting a proposal. I’ve already awarded the contract.”
“You have?” Peter sounded stunned.
What had he expected, that Anderson Adventures would sit and wait forever for their proposal?
“Yes and we’ve signed a contract.” Tyler typed in the date and time of the next game test and recommendations for improvements. “As I explained in my request for your proposal, we’re on a very tight time frame for the launch. That’s one of the reasons I left so many messages for you.” Pity you never responded to any of them.
“I see.”
“Goodbye, Pete.”
“Wait! Do you mind if I ask who won the contract?”
Tyler hesitated but didn’t see any harm in telling Peter he was working with Iris. “The Beharie Agency.”
“Iris Beharie?” Peter sounded as though Tyler had contracted with an alien life form.
“Do you know her?”
“Yes, I do.” The consultant’s tone was grim. “Listen, Ty. There’s something you should know about her.”
Chapter 4
Standing at her stove Friday evening, Iris wasn’t especially curious when her front doorbell chimed a little after six o’clock. It couldn’t be anyone she knew. Family and friends pulled in behind her garage and
knocked at her back door. She turned off the fire beneath the boiling pot of water—the spaghetti would have to wait—then padded in stocking feet out of her kitchen and across her living room. Iris rose up on her toes to check the peephole—and gasped.
What is Ty Anderson doing at my door?
She grabbed the knot of hair she’d clipped to the top of her head. Horrified, she looked at her oversized sweatshirt and faded red tights with the name of Cleveland’s professional basketball team written on the legs.
Oh, my word! I can’t let a client see me like this.
The doorbell rang again. Iris’s panicked, gaze leaped up the stairs. But if Tyler couldn’t wait one minute for her to answer his summons, there was no way Mr. Impatience would cool his heels while she pulled on a power suit.
