Kevin grinned. “Well, sweetie pie, there’s no one else in this place who would merit a title like His Hotness, so, yes, that’s exactly who I meant.”

Tessa regarded him quizzically. “So what’s the story behind that particular nickname?”

Kevin gave a little eye roll. “Come on, haven’t you at least seen his picture or anything?”

She nodded, struggling mightily to appear nonchalant. “On the corporate website once or twice,” she lied, not about to admit how many times she’d stared at his photo like a starstruck adolescent. “He’s, um, good looking from what I can tell.”

“Good looking?” Kevin hooted. “Honey, that’s like saying Aretha Franklin can carry a tune. His Hotness is g-o-r-g-e-o-u-s, flat out gorgeous. He could be a male model or something, you know? Preferably an underwear model, but even in a suit he’s a sight for sore eyes. The word droolworthy comes to mind for lack of a better description. But to answer your original question, yours truly dreamed up the nickname His Hotness because he’s – well, hot, of course, but also sort of regal. So it’s a play on words in a way. Instead of His Highness or His Majesty, we call Mr. Gregson His Hotness. Trust me, when you meet him tomorrow it will all make perfect sense.”

Kevin’s telephone rang at that moment, allowing Tessa to return to her work. But she had a great deal of trouble regaining her focus, as the one image she had of Ian Gregson continued to taunt her throughout the afternoon. She’d been so busy these past couple of weeks that there simply hadn’t been time to anticipate the return of her new boss, not to mention the moment when she would finally get to meet the unwitting star of her dirtiest, most forbidden dreams.

Not that she hadn’t overheard any number of snippets of gossip about him, of course. All six of their cubicles were clustered together, three on each side. Tessa was sandwiched in between Kevin and Marisol, while the other three girls sat directly across from them with only a low divider panel to provide any sort of privacy. And as loudly as Gina and Alicia could talk, it was impossible not to hear almost everything they said. The pair of them – best friends and roommates – were nearly inseparable. They commuted to and from work together, ate lunch together just about every day, and spent a good part of their weekends doing things together as well. They both loved fashion, eating at the trendiest restaurants, dancing at the most exclusive clubs, and gossiping fanatically about nearly every person in the office.

Tessa had winced to hear some of the scathing comments they’d made about one employee or another – “she looks ridiculous in that dress, waaay too young for someone her age”; “he definitely dyes his hair, I swear it was mostly gray a week ago”; “someone needs to tell Christa that her skirt is about two sizes too small. I think she should spend more time at the gym and less time at the deli.” And those had been some of the more mild things the two of them had said over the past couple of weeks. Occasionally Shelby also chimed in with a comment of her own, and of course the very opinionated and very chatty Kevin never needed any encouragement to offer up his take on the matter.

Tessa wondered at times how any of them got any significant amount of work done, given all of the talking and gossiping that went on. Marisol was the only other one of the group besides herself who was quiet and seemed to actually focus on her job. Kevin had mentioned, however, that there was almost always a period of downtime when Mr. Gregson was out of the office, and that they had all learned to make the most of these times – because when he was in the office the workload was often staggering at times, the pace frantic, as everyone rushed to complete whatever tasks were assigned to them, no one anxious to get a “talking to” from Andrew about not keeping up.

She’d learned from her first day on the job that Andrew was technically in charge of the team, that he was the one who doled out assignments and kept track of their work. According to Kevin, the team actually had very little interaction with Mr. Gregson, barely saw him from day to day unless it was their turn to do the meeting set-up or some other task that brought them into direct contact with him. Tessa had felt both relief and disappointment at this knowledge, the former because it meant there would be very few instances where she could risk making a fool of herself, and the latter because – well, if Kevin could be believed, then Mr. Gregson was even more compelling and attractive than his photo gave evidence to, and who wouldn’t want to spend time in the presence of such a man?

Apparently, however, she wasn’t the only one with a fascination for her handsome boss. Ian Gregson was a favorite topic of conversation between Alicia and Gina, whether it was speculation on who designed his suits, or how serious he might be about the woman he’d been seen out with recently, or if Alicia might stand a chance with him if she were to ever quit her job.

It had been readily obvious even to someone as naïve as Tessa that Alicia had quite the obsession with Mr. Gregson, and kept careful track of his social life. Her parents attended a number of the same events that he did, and Alicia was frequently pestering her mother to get her invited along. But evidently there was a very strict company policy forbidding managers from dating employees under their direct supervision, and Tessa had heard numerous times over the past two weeks about how strictly Mr. Gregson enforced that particular rule – especially when it came to himself. If the rumors were true, then he had never been known to date an employee, whether here in the U.S., or during the years he’d worked for the company in England and throughout Europe.

“Kevin, do you want to catch lunch with us today?” asked Gina, as she and Alicia got up from their desks simultaneously.

Both women were smartly dressed, as usual, their clothes, shoes, and bags all of a much better quality than anything Tessa owned. Both in their late twenties, Gina was the more exotic and flamboyant of the two with her olive skin, big dark eyes, and masses of dark brown hair, her Latina heritage apparent. Alicia was classier, more refined, with a chin-length bob of wheat blonde hair, ivory skin and a designer wardrobe she was able to afford via her monthly trust fund stipends. Tessa had gleaned that particular snippet of information from Kevin, who seemed to know a great deal about each of his co-workers.

“Sure,” agreed Kevin amiably, shrugging into his jacket. “Where do you ladies want to dine today? I’m in the mood for something spicy myself – Thai or Mexican. Just like the guys I went home from the club with last night.”