computer. Again.
Tyler had made her promise to follow their security procedures. Well, at least she’d remembered to close the office’s security door when she’d gone to the restroom. But now that she thought about it, she didn’t remember using her email before she’d left the room.
* * *
Two weeks later, Tyler rode a crowded elevator with Iris in the host hotel of the Electronic Gaming Convention in San Diego. Iris’s citrus-and-vanilla scent surrounded him. He was spending four days in a fancy hotel with a beautiful woman he couldn’t touch, doing his least favorite thing: promotion. Fate could be cruel.
The elevator opened on the sixth floor. Several passengers disembarked, including Iris. Tyler followed her.
“Your suite’s on the twelfth floor.” She hesitated, seeming surprised to find him with her.
“I know.” Tyler scanned the hallway for the signs that would direct them to Iris’s room. “I’m going to escort you to your room.”
“You don’t need to do that.”
“Yes, I do.” It was more than manners. He felt protective of her.
“All right. But good luck getting an elevator to your floor.” Iris pulled her wheeled suitcase behind her. “They’re all going to be as crowded as the one we just left.”
Tyler followed her, pulling his own suitcase. “I don’t understand why you booked me on a separate floor. I would’ve been fine in one of these rooms.”
“You need a suite. Or would you be comfortable with reporters sitting on your bed while they interview you?”
Tyler shrugged. “I guess it would depend on the reporter.”
“A little adolescent flashback?” Iris shook her head with a smile. “After we unpack, we’ll review your schedule and talking points for tomorrow’s presentation.”
Tyler glanced at his Movado wristwatch. It was six o’clock in the evening in San Diego, nine o’clock at night back home in Columbus. He was starving.
“I know you’re in charge but I’d rather eat first.” Tyler stopped in front of Iris’s room.
“All right. We can order room service and make it a working dinner.” She swiped her key card through the reader on her hotel door.
“Oh, joy.”
Still smiling, she gave him a sarcastic look over her shoulder. “Let’s look at a menu.”
Tyler followed Iris into her room. He stood his luggage against the wall beside the door. His black loafers sank into thick blue-gray carpeting as he followed her into her room. The narrow entrance was framed by a closet with mirrored sliding doors on the left and a bathroom on the right. Beyond the entryway, a black flat-screen television stood on a cherrywood chest of drawers. His attention lingered on the king-size bed.
Iris set her suitcase and carry-on beside the bed. The room-service menu was on the desk near the floral-patterned armchair. She gave it a quick read through, then handed it to Tyler. “I’ll take the chicken sandwich and fries, and a bottle of water.”
Tyler skimmed the choices, then gave her back the menu. “Me, too. I’ll place the orders. We’ll eat in my room.”
More than two hours later, Tyler’s brain threatened to explode. He and Iris had eaten dinner in his suite’s small sitting area. He’d taken the armchair, leaving the sofa to her. It was an awkward setup made even more uncomfortable by her interrogation. Between bites of her french fries and chicken sandwich loaded with everything but onions, Iris had quizzed him on their schedule for the convention’s media day, and his talking points for the press, as well as the gamers. She’d impersonated an avid fan so well, he’d forgotten she’d never played a computer game in her life. But her performance as an investigative journalist made him want to evict her from his room.
“I still don’t understand why I’m here instead of Van.” Though the image of Donovan and Iris in an intimate hotel room put him in danger of losing his dinner.
“You’ve been asking that question for months. The answer hasn’t changed.” Iris’s voice was rich with unwelcomed humor. “Besides, as vice president for product development, don’t you want to meet the people who enjoy your games?”
Tyler stood, stacking their used dishes onto the room-service tray. “You’re right. It will be helpful to get their feedback firsthand.”
“You’re agreeing with me?” Iris’s eyes widened. “Wait, I need to mark this date on my calendar.”
“And the award for Best Performance in a Drama goes to Iris Beharie.” Tyler placed the tray in the hallway, then returned to Iris. “Are you done?”
“I’d like to thank the Academy...”
Tyler struggled against a smile as he sat. “Are the reporters going to be as confrontational as you were during our run-through?”