Carson drummed his nails against the marble counter, surveying the drab grey figures as they lingered about the hotel lobby. Clarissa peered up from her desk. "I'm going to bite your fingers off. Stop that." He glared at her. "And I'll report you to HR." "Hey, I got you this job," she snapped. "Don't think I won't get you fired." He hoisted himself onto the counter and slumped, defeated. "I'm sorry. I'm just bored." He tu...