Love at First Laugh: Eight Romantic Novellas Filled with Love, Laughter, and Happily Ever After

by Krista Phillips

  Of course she had. Right up until he’d mentioned Maverick. And the kicker? Rod seemed like a genuinely good guy. She’d enjoyed their dinner and the conversation they’d shared.

  Sigh.

  Goodbye dating win.

  A couple days later, IT got called down to the ER again. More network troubles. They could pull up medical histories on most of their patients, but not all. It seemed either random or specific — she wasn’t sure which. This time two men Lia didn’t recognize accompanied Maverick. She gave him a quick wave but didn’t have a chance to stop and talk to him. With his new shadows, it was probably for the best anyway.

  Partway through the morning, Lia rushed out of Cubicle 7C only to run smack dab into the more daunting of her friend’s shadows. “Pardon me.” She tried to skirt around him to reach the computer workstation, but he blocked her path.

  “Can I have a word with you?”

  She shook her head. “I need to enter something into the computer. You’ll have to follow me if you want to talk.”

  The man fell into step beside her as she headed to the closest workstation. “Name’s Whitehall. I’m with the Secret Service.”

  Talk about a weird name. Who named their kid Whitehall?

  “It’s Agent Whitehall.”

  Secret Service agent and mind reader. How’d he know she’d thought Whitehall was his first name? “What interest do the feds have in our network issues?”

  “That’s classified, ma’am.”

  Lia reached the workstation and flicked her gaze at the agent. “Let me see your ID, and don’t call me Ma’am. Lia or Nurse Promise is fine.”

  Agent Whitehall showed her his credentials. They looked legitimate. Not that she’d know a forgery if she saw one.

  He tucked his ID back into his jacket pocket. “Have you seen anybody working at the workstations in the ER that shouldn’t be here?”

  Lia logged into the system. “Nope. But we’re always so busy in here, I’m not sure any of us would notice someone at one of the workstations.”

  Agent Whitehall frowned. “So you’re saying any Joe Schmoe off the street could walk in and access one of your computer workstations?”

  She shook her head. “A patient accessing a workstation would draw attention. If someone came in through the hospital entrance, though, and acted like they belonged, we wouldn’t give it a second thought. Some of us might look long enough to make sure the person had an ID badge, but I doubt any of us would take the time to go over and read the badge and ensure it was legit. Why?”

  “How many ways are there to get into the ER?”

  Lia frowned as she typed the patient stats into the workstation. The network problem had also messed with their ability to enter information from their assigned tablets. “To get into the bullpen, you either come in from the ER waiting room, or you use one of the two hospital entrances, both of which require you to swipe a badge.”

  “What about linens? How are your linens stocked?”

  “The hospital contracts that out. They come every day, pick up the soiled linens and restock our shelves with fresh ones.”

  “And how do they get in?”

  “They have to swipe in like everybody else.”

  “Any other outside contractors that can swipe themselves into the ER?”

  “Sure.” Lia bit her bottom lip as she tried to remember. “The people who collect the sharps containers are contracted out. There’s some sort of service that comes in periodically to check all the smoke detectors and fire extinguishers. We get bureaucrats from time to time who have to check us out to make sure we can keep our accreditation. Sometimes we have to bring in counselors from a palliative care facility. We don’t deal with that much in the ER. People are usually admitted to the hospital before anybody like that is called in, but it happens occasionally. And the paramedics who bring in patients via ambulance. ” She shrugged. “I’m sure there are others, but I can’t think of them at the moment.”

  Agent Whitehall shook Lia’s hand. “Thanks for your time.” He started to walk away then turned around and asked, his voice casual, “Do you know Mr. Hoyt?”

  Lia didn’t lift her eyes from the workstation’s computer screen. “Maverick? We go to the same church. We’ve known each other since we were kids.”

  The agent nodded. “Is he a trustworthy sort?”

  Lia’s spine stiffened. Was the world conspiring against her? Now complete strangers were asking her about her friend. “Maverick Hoyt is a man who does what’s honorable even when it comes at a personal cost to himself.”

  Agent Whitehall nodded. “That’s what I thought. Just wanted a second opinion. Thanks.”

  Before Lia cold think of anything else to say in Maverick’s defense, the agent was gone. Come to think of it, Maverick and his other shadow were gone, too.

  What exactly was going on? Lia wasn’t prone to conspiracy theories, but the problems with the hospital’s network were becoming more bizarre by the minute. Secret Service of all things. Why would they care about a private hospital’s network?

  Unless…

  Chapter 12

  Call me when you get a chance. I have a question.

  Maverick read the text again as he walked in through his front door.

  He and Lia texted sometimes during the week, but they rarely chatted on the phone. They saw enough of each other in person that there’d never been much of a need.

  Something must be wrong.

  Maverick scrolled through his contacts list, found Lia, and tapped Call.

  “Hey.” Lia’s voice sounded normal enough.

  “What’s up?”

  “Who were the guys with you in the ER today?”

  “Butch Hutchinson. He’s the head of the cybersecurity team Ferito Technology sent to ferret out the hacker who’s compromised our network. The other guy was someone he brought in. Whitehall, I think. I didn’t catch his title, though.”

  “Secret Service.”

  “Huh?”

  Lia grunted. “Agent Whitehall. He’s with the Secret Service.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “He asked me some questions, but he showed me his credentials first.”

  “Secret Service?”

  “Right?” Lia’s voice went up in pitch. “It got me to thinking. Why would the Secret Service care about our computer problems at the hospital? Then it hit me. Remember the assassination attempt?”

  Maverick toed his shoes off before padding into the kitchen in search of a cold bottle of water. “That was a year ago. What does that have to do with now?”

  Lia’s sigh sounded like a long slide down on a bass trombone. “Jefferson David Taylor was running for the republican nomination when he got shot. He was basically a nobody back then.”

  “Not a nobody, but yeah. What’re you getting at?”

  “He was treated in our ICU.”

  “Okay…”

  “Hello? He’s president now. For Secret Service to show up, they must think an attack on the hospital’s network is somehow a threat to national security. Like the president…?”

  “They probably don’t want the president’s private medical records to fall into the wrong hands. It could be a matter of privacy, not national security.”

  “I like my explanation better. What if Taylor has some crazy disease that’s reported in our hospital records? Or what if…”

  Maverick cut her off. “What if someone wants to make it look like something’s wrong with him? What if someone is attempting to isolate patient records so they can tamper with them?”

  Lia grunted. “Can someone do that with the port thingy you mentioned? The one that got turned off?”

  He cringed. Port thingy? Really? “The fact that the port was shut down via software means it was hacked. For someone to get in there and control that port kind of means they own it, that they can do whatever they want with it. They’d need to have some mad computer skills to pull that off, but once they took ownership of the ER router port,
it would have given them a doorway to hack further into the system.”

  “Like patient records?”

  “Maybe. I’d like to think we cut them off before they got that far, but this problem has been going on for a while. It’s hard to know how far they got or what they accessed. The cybersecurity team is still working on that, trying to trace the digital fingerprints through the system”

  Lia’s brow wrinkled. “Yeah, but every time a patient record is accessed, it’s timestamped and the person who accessed it is recorded, too. So wouldn’t it be easy to know?”

  Maverick tapped the side of his head. “Mad computer skills, remember? If they took ownership of the port, then they’re good enough to take ownership of the security software that monitors the patient records. Which is why I think it makes more sense that they’d try to make his records look like something’s wrong with him. If they just wanted to get a peek at his records, there are easier ways to do that. Making it look like the president’s sick, though, and then releasing those records to the public? That could cause major problems. Economy, foreign relations, you name it.”

  “Okay, fine. That makes more sense than my theory. Perception is everything, right? If they can make people think the president’s not fit to serve…” Lia sat back. “You should ask Agent Whitehall if he shows up again.”

  “That’s above my pay grade.”

  “He asked me about you.”

  Maverick settled on his couch and stretched his legs out, resting his feet on the coffee table. Agent Whitehall had… “He what?”

  “Agent Whitehall asked what I thought of you. Were you trustworthy, that sort of thing.”

  “What’d you tell him?”

  “The truth, silly. That your word can be trusted even if you have zero talent as a mime.”

  Maverick leaned his head back. “It’s all a little too weird for me. Doing IT work at a hospital used to be straightforward and simple. Interesting, yeah, but not weird.”

  Lia threw a bucket of cold water in his face with her next words. “I signed you up for the bachelor auction.”

  Maverick sputtered and sat bolt upright. “You what?”

  “The auction proceeds are designated to help fund the Child Life Department. It’s for Child Life. You wouldn’t have been able to say no, so I put your name down.”

  “I can’t say no because you didn’t give me a chance. And I thought it was supposed to fund equipment.”

  “Pish posh. You were going to give in eventually. I just saved you all the waffling between now and auction day. It’s easier this way. As for the money, different departments submitted proposals. Rylie’s Child Life proposal impressed the board the most, I guess. I wouldn’t be surprised if guilt played a part, too, with the way they’ve cut funding to Child Life.”

  Maverick let out a deep sigh. “I still don’t understand what Holy Hearts gets from this. I see how the hospital benefits, but a dating service? What’s in it for them?”

  “All the men being auctioned off have to be single and have to create a profile on Holy Hearts. That way the women coming to the auction will see all the great-looking doctors and whatever on stage and will think Holy Hearts has all the best men. Business should boom.”

  “That sounds kind of mercenary for what’s supposed to be a Christian company.”

  “Yeah, I’m guessing. Maybe it really is a charity thing, no ulterior motive. Like you said, they’re a Christian dating service. What if the whole auction thing is about paying it forward and doing good for others? They might not have a hidden agenda.”

  Maverick shook his head. “In business, there’s always an ulterior motive.”

  “Aren’t you a ray of sunshine tonight?”

  “Ha. Funny. So what’s the dress code for this meat market you’re calling a bachelor auction? Do I need to rent a tux?”

  Lia’s light laughter floated across the airwaves. “We’re going for something a little more informal. You’ll see an announcement in your Holy Hearts email soon. It should answer all your questions.”

  “Why do I get the feeling I should avoid opening email for the foreseeable future?”

  Her voice held a smile. “You’re coming whether you like it or not, so try to be a sport.”

  Maverick’s body was having dinner with Vanessa, a woman he’d met through Holy Hearts. His mind, however, wasn’t even in the same building with her.

  Snapping fingers drew his attention. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”

  “Look.” Vanessa rose from the table and put her hands on her trim hips. “If you’re not into me, that’s fine. I knew you weren’t looking for marriage here. You made that clear. Friends only. Whatever. I don’t want anything serious, either, but I’d like to meet a guy who’s stable enough that I can take him to the company Christmas party without having to file a disclaimer with HR at the end of the evening.”

  She realized it was only spring, didn’t she? Christmas was so far in the future it belonged in a sci-fi movie.

  Vanessa huffed. “I don’t need your undying love, but expecting you to be present, here with me in this conversation is not asking too much.”

  He’d blown it. Again. Maverick ran a hand over his face. “I’m sorry Vanessa. My distraction isn’t about you.”

  “You think I don’t know that? Whatever her name is, you either sort it out, or move on. But stop wasting everybody else’s time.”

  Maverick didn’t try to halt her as Vanessa stomped away from the table. She had every reason to be angry. Instead, he lifted his hand to the waiter and indicated he was ready for the check. The waiter humored him with a nod of acknowledgment even though everyone in the restaurant knew he was done with his date. Vanessa had been far from quiet in her complaints.

  Once the waiter returned with the check, Maverick paid the bill, collected his jacket, slipped outside into the darkening twilight, and headed toward the parking garage on the other side of the street. He and Vanessa had driven separately, so at least he didn’t have to worry about her trying to hail a cab. Where guilt should be gnawing at him, he felt relief. Lia’s question from weeks prior came back to him. Were women who made the first move aggressive? No, not normally. Vanessa, on the other hand… He had a feeling she would have chewed him out no matter how their date had gone.

  The walk signal lit up, and Maverick stepped onto the asphalt. He hit the halfway mark in the crosswalk before the yelling registered. Someone was calling his name. “Hoyt! Hey, Hoyt!”

  Not many men addressed him by his last name. Maverick made his way across the rest of the street, stepped up onto the curb, and glanced around until he spotted the face that went with the voice. “What can I do for you Agent Whitehall?”

  “Nice little scene back there.”

  Maverick stared at the agent. “Are you stalking me now?”

  “Nah. You wouldn’t know I was here if that was the case. I’m stealthy like that. Now let me buy you a beer.”

  “No, thanks.”

  “Please tell me you’re not a wine guy.”

  Maverick shook his head. “I’m not much of an alcohol guy — wine, beer, or otherwise.”

  “Coffee then.” Whitehall pointed down the street to an exclusive coffee bistro Maverick recognized by name but had never braved entering.

  “As long as you’re buying. And I think you have to be on the VIP list. I heard they have an actual bouncer.”

  Whitehall gave a solemn nod. “I know a guy who knows a guy.”

  Within minutes, they were seated at a corner table. A barista approached with her order pad at the ready, but before she could speak, Agent Whitehall rattled off the names of a couple drinks. “Give me a Dolley Madison Zebra, hot, and get my friend here a Bess Truman Puñet, also hot.”

  Maverick had no idea what a puñet was. A drink named after the wife of America’s thirty-third president couldn’t be all bad, though… he hoped.

  The instant their barista stepped away, Whitehall leaned forward, elbows resting on the tabletop�
��s edge in defiance of every etiquette lesson ever taught. “Tell me what you think of Planter.”

  The agent had followed him after a restaurant altercation to ask what he thought of his supervisor. Could the night get any more bizarre? “He’s my boss. What I think of him doesn’t matter.”

  Something flickered in Whitehall’s eyes. Humor, maybe admiration. Or gas. Wasn’t that what they said when babies smiled?

  “Fair enough. Hutchinson, then. What do you think of him?”

  He could answer that one honestly without risking termination. Hopefully. “He’s an analytical person who notices things even though he doesn’t want people to know he’s paying attention. He’s smarter than he wants others to realize, but he’s not the type to play dumb.”

  “Is he any good at his job?”

  Maverick sat back as the barista set a drink in front of him. He picked it up and took a sip, still not sure he trusted what Whitehall had ordered for him. The rich coffee ran over his tongue, bringing a contented sigh to his lips. He should find an excuse to answer questions for Whitehall more often if this was how the guy rewarded people for their cooperation. “I don’t know.”

  “You’ve been working with him. How can you not know?”

  He took another swallow of his coffee. “He’s great at what I’ve seen him do, but his job is a whole lot bigger than one little hospital network. I can’t speak to any of the rest of what he does.”

  Whitehall nodded and downed half his coffee. “What about you? How are you at your job?”

  Why did this suddenly feel like an interrogation? “I’m better at it than some, not as skilled as others.”

  “You don’t give yourself enough credit. You graduated at the top of your class, didn’t you?”

  “Sure, but classroom knowledge and experience are two different things, and in a field that’s changing constantly, the experience pays off way more than anything I learned in a textbook.”

  “Are you ever going to ask that nurse out?”

  Intrusive much? “My personal life is none of your business.”

  “The redhead, right? You should ask her out before she finds someone else.”