executives that they didn’t wait for the staff to make the coffee. And the fact that Tyler Anderson—the vice president of product development—regularly arrived at work early enough to make the first pot explained how he could have responded so early Monday morning to the proposal she’d submitted Sunday night.
Iris took a sip. “This is delicious. Who made it?”
“If it’s good, it wasn’t Van. Everyone complains his coffee tastes like antifreeze. He says, if they don’t like it, they should get in earlier.” Sherry paused as they both laughed. “But the coffee goes pretty quickly. It’s nine o’clock. That’s probably the third pot.”
Iris’s eyes widened. “You weren’t kidding about their coffee addiction.”
“Sorry to keep you waiting.” A strong baritone resonated throughout Iris’s nervous system. “Ty Anderson.”
Iris looked up—way up—to the tall, dark, handsome man who’d stopped in front of her. This was the vice president of product development? She was definitely being played. The only way a desk jockey would look like Idris Elba was if he came from central casting.
His features were silver-screen perfect. His high forehead and bright ebony eyes indicated a keen intelligence that one shouldn’t underestimate. His squared jaw signaled a stubbornness that would be a challenge. His full, well-shaped lips implied a subtle sensuality she shouldn’t even think about.
Iris stood, taking his large, outstretched hand. His warm skin sent a shock up her arm. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Anderson. I’m Iris Beharie.”
“Ty. This way, please.” He stepped aside, releasing her hand to gesture in the direction from which he’d come. “Sherry, thank you.”
“You’re welcome, Ty.” The Doris Day double gave him a fond look.
Iris settled the strap of her black briefcase onto her left shoulder and hoisted the mammoth coffee mug with her right hand. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Sherry lifted her hands, crossing her fingers. “Good luck.”
Iris tossed Sherry a grateful smile before following Tyler down the hall. His broad shoulders were wrapped in a white jersey. His long legs were covered in chocolate suit pants. She jerked her gaze from his butt and looked around the office suite. Tyler stopped beside a frosted glass door and waved her inside. She glimpsed his name and title on the silver frame beside the threshold.
“Have a seat.” He closed his door, then waited for Iris to claim a chair at the small glass conversation table.
“Thank you.” Her palms were sweating again.
His office was big, bright and painfully neat. Project folders were staggered in a metal filing system on his silver-and-glass L-shaped desk. His black leather chair was tucked under his table. One of the twenty-ounce silver-and-black coffee mugs stood beside his computer mouse.
Her office would drive him nuts.
Tyler also seemed obsessed with time. His large desk calendar was covered with notes. Dates were crossed off the wall calendar opposite his desk. Project timelines were pinned to a board behind his chair.
Frightening.
Iris noted his minifridge, microwave and radio. Was he preparing for a lockdown?
Tyler came around to join her at the conversation table. Rather than watch him fold his long, lean body onto the smoke-gray padded seat opposite her, Iris distracted herself by pulling a writing tablet and pen from her briefcase.
“Your proposal is impressive.” Tyler tapped the electronic tablet in front of him.
“Thank you.” So far, so good.
“I’ve also reviewed your firm’s website. The two seem to be in contradiction.”
“How so?” Iris gripped her ballpoint pen as she forced herself to hold Tyler’s penetrating gaze. She really wanted this account.
“You’re a one-person show. How can one person accomplish all the things you’ve promised in your proposal?”
“I understand your concern.” She’d heard it before from other executives. “However, I assure you I wouldn’t have made those commitments if I wasn’t confident I’d be able to meet them.”
“How?”
Iris glanced at the tablet trapped between the table and the long, elegant fingers of Tyler’s right hand. “As I explained in my proposal, this isn’t my first product launch. I know what’s involved. That experience will make me more efficient with your project.”
“You also mentioned other consultants you plan to work with.” Tyler leaned back on his seat.
“Their costs are included in the budget.”
“You, a designer, a printer and a media buyer. That’s a lot of people to depend on to meet deadlines.”
Iris put down her pen, then rested one hand on top of the other. “That’s a legitimate concern. But, Mr. Anderson—”
“Ty. Mr. Anderson is my father.”
“Ty.” Iris inclined her head with a smile. “Even if you worked with a larger company, you’d still need those various roles. The only difference between my firm and a larger company is that those responsibilities would be assigned to their staff. But you’d still have to depend on a lot of people meeting their deadlines.”
Tyler’s mind wandered as he watched Iris’s full, bow-shaped lips. It was only when her lips stopped moving that he realized he should have been listening.
He tamped down his embarrassment—and his urge to trace a finger over her lips. “That’s a lot of people to keep track of during the project. We don’t have a lot of time.”
“This launch does have an ambitious schedule. This is the second week of March and your release date is July tenth.”
“That’s just over four months.” Tyler scowled. Why haven’t I heard from Peter Kimball about his company’s proposal?
“Seventeen weeks and three days. It’s a tight schedule, but not impossible.” Iris spread her small, delicate hands. The movement briefly distracted Tyler.
“You’ve worked with tough deadlines before?”
Iris sat back and crossed her legs. “Many times and always successfully.”
Her voice was matter-of-fact, her manner confident. Her proposal was impressive in its detail and vision. Still, Tyler hesitated.
This was a big job. Iris Beharie had more than eight years of marketing and public relations experience. However, the results of his internet research indicated The Beharie Agency was only three months old. How could he entrust his launch of his company’s new computer game to what amounted to an untried agency?
How could he trust her with his future?
Tyler hardened his heart to her honey-brown skin although it looked
