Surrender to You by Shawntelle Madison Page B

singsong voice.
    I swallowed a laugh and tried to keep going on the subject at hand. “Employees’ insurance benefits will change, and possibly not for the better.”
    Mr. Butts sighed. “Whether or not the new owners make changes doesn’t matter in the end.”
    “True.”
    If you’re smart, Carlie, you’ll uncover your parents and get out of here before you do something with Tomas that you’ll regret.
No more hotel drama, no more Tomas, just making money in London where I wanted to be. Where I had a life.
    An ocean between us would definitely put me back on track.
    Later that afternoon, I spotted Carver sitting in his usual spot by the pool.
    “Hey, Jason!” he called out.
    He always made me smile. I placed a fresh green smoothie next to his old one. His smile faded. “How are you, Carver?”
    “Feeling good. Two hot models just made out on the other side of the pool.”
    This man is too much.
The guy was attractive enough to have at least a few models hanging all over him, but as usual, he was sitting by himself.
    “Should I get you some binoculars?” I asked.
    “Naw.” He took a long drink from the fresh glass. “My vision is perfect…when I watch my sugar anyway.”
    “Do you have diabetes?”
    “Yeah, I got Type 2.” He chuckled. “I’m not the most compliant patient either, according to my doc.”
    “Don’t feel bad. I’m not, either.”
    “What you got?”
    I picked up his old drink and considered the door I’d just opened. Talking to Carver was too easy. Discussing my personal business with guests wasn’t wise, but just looking at him relaxed against his seat, not a single line of stress on his face, set me at ease.
    “I have celiac disease and I’m not dealing with it well…”
    He briefly threw a smile my way. “Is that the disease where you can’t eat things like wheat?”
    “Pretty much. I’d kill for a cheap bottle of beer right about now with a huge plate of deep-dish lasagna.”
    “Aren’t there gluten-free options now? You don’t have much to complain about. Have you tried sugar-free apple pie?” He shook his head as if disgusted. “It’s like a culinary murder scene during my family dinners. My aunt makes this
a-mazing
brown-sugar baked sweet potato dish that everyone loves and I’m the knucklehead stuck eating a plain baked potato.”
    “It could be worse.”
    “How?”
    “You could be allergic to potatoes.”
    He rolled his eyes. “Does your family cook something different for you?”
    I sucked in a deep breath. “I’m an orphan.”
    “Damn, I’m sorry.”
    “Don’t be. I have friends who I consider my family…and I’m here in Boston to find my biological parents.” There I went again, but talking like this felt good. It was like I was hanging out with Griffin. Both of them were fine as hell and had an ease about them.
    He slowly nodded. “How’s the search going?”
    “I have a feeling I have a better chance finding you a
tasty
piece of sugar-free apple pie in our kitchen than finding my parents.”
    He grunted. “Have you ever tasted sugar-free apple pie before? Thanks, but no thanks. Even at my company meetings they serve me that shit.”
    I’d kill for a piece of apple pie with a delicate flaky crust, too. Even the pancakes I ate with Tomas. “Company meetings? I’ve yet to see you do
any
work.”
    “That’s what underlings are for. I got a bunch of managers.”
    With an amused grin, I watched him tilt his head to better observe Millicent as she went by with Mr. Frasier. Their timing was flawless.
    “What kind of company do you own?” I asked.
    “A private investigation firm out of the Midwest.”
    “Sounds pretty cool.”
    “How come you haven’t hired an investigator to find your parents?”
    I shrugged. “No money. Even I know how much you guys cost.”
    He gave me the kind of smile that would melt the iciest of hearts. “What if you had a good friend who gave you the homegirl hookup?”
    I made a face. “I’d thank him, but