“That’s a good thing.” Iris surrendered to her indignation. “Your previous marketing consultants should have set up your social media platforms. They should have given you a plan on how to run it. What were you paying them for?”
Tyler was silent for several rapid heartbeats. His ebony eyes searched each of her features as though he was looking for something. “You’re right. I’m glad you’re here, Iris.”
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.”
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.
Iris channeled her older sister, Rose. Assume control, project confidence. She pulled open her front door. “Ty. What a surprise. I believe I mentioned I never conduct client meetings in my home.”
“We need to talk.” His somber expression alarmed her.
Iris stepped aside, gesturing him in. “What’s wrong?”
Tyler crossed her threshold before turning to face her. “Why didn’t you tell me you were fired from RGB for unethical behavior?”
A hundred words flashed across Iris’s mind. Several of them were quite unprofessional. She kept a grip on her temper by channeling her inner Lily. Remain calm; get the facts.
Iris counted to twenty while she closed and locked her front door against the chill of the late-March evening. She faced Tyler, keeping her arms at her sides and her gaze level with his. “What makes you think RGB fired me?”
“My sources in the industry told me.”
His sources? The lightbulb clicked on. Pete Kimball, that nasty, little troll. Iris drew a deeper breath. How did Lily maintain her serenity?
“Your sources are incorrect.” She tilted her head. “Are you interested in the truth?”
“Of course.” Tyler crossed his arms over his broad chest.
Iris gave him a once-over. His teak wool overcoat masked his long, lean form. His ebony eyes burned with outrage and...betrayal? Did he think she’d broken his trust? She had too much personal integrity to do something like that. But of course Tyler wouldn’t know that because he didn’t know her.
Iris led him the few steps into her living room and gestured toward her chunky, emerald sofa. “Have a seat.” The invitation went against her grain. She’d never intended to entertain clients in her home. But by showing up on her doorstep and questioning her character, he’d left her no choice.
Tyler hesitated a second or two before shrugging off his overcoat and following her instructions. Iris didn’t take his coat. He wouldn’t be staying that long.
“What happened at RGB?” Tyler set his coat on the cushion beside him.
Iris settled onto her matching love seat. “RGB was my second job out of college. I’d worked there for more than five years as a public relations coordinator. Meanwhile, other people with less experience and ability than me were advanced ahead of me because they either had the look the executives wanted or their father knew someone in management.”
“The old boys’ club.” Tyler’s tone was dry.
“Exactly.” Iris crossed her legs and folded her arms. Her stomach still churned at the injustice. She’d never forget it. “I’m not proud of the fact that I played their game for so long. I thought my hard work and dedication would be rewarded. Instead, I behaved like the definition of insanity.”
“You were literally doing the same thing over and over again, and expecting a different result.”