Ian had read over each of the team members’ resumes carefully, and learned that Alicia came from a rather privileged background – though still nothing close to his own upper-crust upbringing in England. He’d encountered dozens of young women very much like Alicia over the years, both professionally and socially, and nearly every one of them had considered themselves the perfect match for someone of Ian’s wealth and social standing. Alicia, though subtly, had made it very clear that she was ready, willing, and able to be far more to Ian than a member of his management support team.

Unfortunately for Alicia, he had no interest in her whatsoever, especially since the company had a very strict policy concerning the management staff dating employees under their direction. Ian was especially diligent about personally adhering to this policy, and went to great lengths to keep his relationships with his employees strictly professional. It was a well known fact both here at the regional headquarters and at each of the hotels under his direction that Ian Gregson did not date employees under any circumstances. He had become extremely adept over his thirty-five years at warding off unwanted female advances, whether it was one of his employees, a guest at one of his hotels, or someone in his social circle. He’d quite deliberately cultivated a reputation of being a cold, indifferent bastard, and for the most part it kept the majority of those avaricious women at a distance.

Some women, however, had taken a bit longer than others to get the message. At least Alicia was discrete about the hints she dropped from time to time, and had never been so bold as to flat out proposition him. Unlike his Business Development Manager – the very flirtatious, exceedingly aggressive Morgan Cottrell.

It had taken the predatory Morgan less than forty eight hours after Ian had arrived at the San Francisco offices to make her move on him. He grimaced now in distaste to recall the way she had very deliberately dressed for her pathetic attempt at seduction – short, tight suit skirt; sheer, low-cut blouse; spiky stiletto heels. She’d practically reeked of strong, musky perfume, and her overly made-up face had looked almost clownish. She was a few years older than Ian, nearly forty by now, and had clearly gone to great lengths to preserve her youth – platinum blonde hair that couldn’t possibly be her real color; the use of both Botox and fillers to smooth away wrinkles and plump up her lips; and breast implants that did not look the least bit natural.

But far from being attracted to someone like Morgan, Ian had in fact been thoroughly repulsed by her. And if her intentionally seductive appearance hadn’t been enough to turn his stomach, then her almost constant flirting and flagrant attempts to seduce him had nearly made him shudder in revulsion.

Being the properly brought up English gentleman that he was, however, Ian had merely chosen to ignore Morgan’s initial attempts to lure him, abruptly steering their conversation back to business. But when, after a few such meetings, she had failed to get the hint, he’d taken off the gloves and let her know in no uncertain terms that her behavior would no longer be tolerated.

He’d given Morgan what he knew to be his coldest, haughtiest glare. “Ms. Cottrell, I’ve tried to make it quite clear to you that I’m not the tiniest bit interested in - ah, what you’re offering. But since you’re not getting the message – whether intentionally or not – let me be very clear here.”

Ian had leaned forward in his chair, resting his elbows on the surface of his desk and steepling his fingers beneath his chin as Morgan had rather visibly began to quiver in fear at the severity of his tone.

“I am not, nor will I ever be,” he’d enunciated each word carefully and precisely, “interested in anything you have to offer aside from your business acumen. I understand from my predecessor and from your personnel file that you’ve done an admirable job thus far as our regional business development manager. A job that you may very well find yourself in jeopardy of losing unless you cease and desist your very unwelcomed advances. Do I make myself clear, Ms. Cottrell?”

Morgan had almost jumped out of her seat in reaction to his harsh words. “Yes, Mr. Gregson,” she’d mumbled in an obedient tone. “I, ah, understand.”

“Good. I trust that there won’t be any further need to have a discussion like this one?” he’d asked. At her nod, he had passed her a sheet of paper. “One last thing. This is our corporate dress code, Ms. Cottrell. I suggest you re-read and familiarize yourself with it since you’ve obviously chosen to blatantly ignore nearly every item on the list. This is a place of business, not a singles bar, so please dress accordingly in the future.”

Their meeting had ended abruptly, with Morgan slinking out of his office red-faced and speechless, but the uncomfortable confrontation had more than done the trick. Ever since that day Morgan had never dared to so much as smile at him, and she’d toned down the overtly sexual way she dressed. Her appearance was still not as refined or classy as Ian would have preferred, but since her overall job performance was quite satisfactory he chose to let certain things slide a bit.

Ian typically timed his arrival at office meetings so that he would be the last one to enter the room, though he was rarely ever late. His executives and managers had learned by now that he didn’t tolerate tardiness, and everyone was already seated in their usual places when he strode decisively into the largest of the three conference rooms on this floor.

“Good morning. Is everyone ready to start?” he inquired while taking his customary seat at the head of the long, rectangular conference table.

There were nods and mumbled assents from the dozen or so employees seated around the table, as Ian pulled out the agenda for this morning’s meeting, giving it a quick scan and a wry acknowledgment of Andrew’s efficiency. His extremely competent, frighteningly well-organized PA tended to keep things as short and to-the-point as possible, evidenced by the brevity of today’s agenda.

“Um, Mr. Gregson, do you, um, need anything? Like coffee or something?”

Ian glanced up at the sound of the rather nervous female voice, and had to suppress a sigh of annoyance at the way the admin assistant – Sarah – was staring down at him as she practically hovered by his side. She looked starstruck, her brown eyes wide, and she was almost simpering as she waited breathlessly for his reply.

“Tea, please,” he corrected, hoping his tone didn’t betray his impatience. “Darjeeling, one sugar. Thank you, Sarah.”