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

by Krista Phillips

  “I’m happy to talk to your employer. I’m persuasive.”

  “I’m gathering that.” His looks alone put him in the “yes to anything you ask” category.

  “I’m willing to pay you twenty-thousand dollars, Kate.”

  Wow. What?! For that kind of bank she might be able to afford business school. Open her own grooming and dog shop. Except her dream had been to open it in Sweet Gum. And she couldn’t do that now. Couldn’t go back. “For a whole month?”

  His grin flipped her stomach on its side. “No, Kate. Per week. I’m in dire straits, and money’s not an issue for me.”

  Her eyes bugged out of her head. Eighty grand!

  Kate wasn’t her name, but for that kind of money he could call her anything he wanted. She could make more than her own year’s salary in two weeks! “How old is she?”

  “Nine months.”

  “Aw, she’s only a pup. No wonder you’re freaking out.” She giggled but paused when his face screwed up.

  “Yeah. A…pup.” He gave an unsure laugh. “So you’ll help me?”

  She did have two weeks’ vacation and ten personal days, and if she could loosen Griffin up, he might let her bring Cora with her for a few hours a week.

  “Let me talk to my boss. I won’t lie, I could use the money, but are you sure? That’s a lot of dough, Mr….Griffin.” She rubbed her hands on her thighs. What was the catch? She hadn’t even thought about him being a sicko.

  He leaned a little closer, his voice soft. “I’d have paid you more if you’d have negotiated. First rule of business. Always negotiate.”

  She pointed at him. “My first rule of business is don’t step in the poo.”

  He shook his head, a small grin creasing dimples in his cheeks. But behind the light conversation, he was about to bury his sister.

  “I’m sorry for your loss, Griffin. When’s the funeral?” she murmured.

  He dropped his head. “It’s just a burial. We didn’t have any other family.”

  No family? Emma Kate couldn’t imagine. All of hers, except her cousin Briley, were back in Sweet Gum. Where she’d love to be, but Travis was there. Thriving in his vet practice with his wife—the wife who was living Emma Kate’s dream.

  “I’ll do what I can to help you.”

  A relieved sigh escaped his lips. “Cora is going to arrive in the next thirty minutes. Can you be at my place about then? To meet her.”

  “I can be there at four-thirty-ish. Keep her occupied until then. She’ll be fine.”

  His eyes said things wouldn’t be fine, but after a pause he spoke. “Okay. Thank you, Kate. After the way I behaved last night, I’m grateful you even agreed to talk to me.” He gave a solid nod and headed toward his Vanquish parked on the street. Emma Kate called her manager after Griffin left and got the four weeks, but she had to find her own replacement for the days she was scheduled to work.

  Sweet Lord, please comfort Griffin. I can’t imagine not having family to lean on. And help me take care of his fur baby. And also, I pray he’s not a sicko.

  Around six she knocked on the door of his historic home. She’d wanted a peek inside. Now she was going to get it. She didn’t hear any barking.

  The door swung open and that same dreadful look filled his face. The one that said he was up a creek with no boat. “It’s six. You said four. I’ve been here for two and a half hours alone with her!”

  “I said four-ish. Ish gives me license to show up at six.” She stepped inside, ignoring his panic-laced remark. “I had responsibilities to attend to if I’m taking a month off work. Which was a miracle all in itself.” Crisp cool air-conditioning greeted her along with black and white checkered marbled floors flowing to the winding staircase.

  “She’s in her pen. Ms. Jones brought it to me and a few supplies.”

  Hemming in a puppy wasn’t smart. She needed to play and run that energy out. Good thing Emma Kate was here.

  Griffin pointed to the open living room extending from the foyer. White walls. White ceilings. White furniture. As she expected. A mausoleum. Sleek. Elegant. Masculine.

  Impersonal.

  He wasn’t going to like the doggy accidents about to happen.

  “She’s in here. She hasn’t made much noise. I expected her to make more noise.”

  “That’s okay. She’s probably scared and trying to figure out her new surroundings. New smells.” Like lemon, leather, and his cologne.

  Griffin paused in front of her. “Really? They can pick up on smells and know they’re new? I had no idea.”

  “Oh yes.” This guy knew zipola about dogs. Bless him. “Well, move so I can see her.” She skirted around him and searched for the carrying crate. “I thought you said she was in a pen.”

  “She is.” He pointed to the opposite corner of the room.

  Emma Kate blinked.

  That wasn’t a dog crate. That was a play pen. A baby’s play pen. A scratching noise came from inside. Then baby babbles.

  That was no fur baby.

  She strode to the corner and peered into the navy blue play pen. Inside, sat the cutest little darlin’ she’d ever seen. Dark hair covered by a pink bow bigger than her head. A purple romper dotted with hot air balloons in every color and bare chubby feet.

  Confusion settled over her. Did he have a daughter and a dog? Clearly this was his kid. Same cornflower blue eyes and coal-black, long lashes. “Where’s the dog?” she asked and swiveled to look at Griffin.

  “What dog?” Puzzled eyes made direct contact on hers.

  Emma Kate glanced down at the baby again. Surely he didn’t enlist her services for his baby. She pointed at the little cherub. “What’s going on right here?”

  “That’s Cora.” He closed the distance between them. “Not to sound like a jerk or to be insensitive but do you suffer from short term memory loss? If you do, that’s going to be a problem.”

  Short…term… “What? No, I do not suffer from short term memory loss. Do you suffer from being upfront? You asked me to dog sit. If you wanted a baby sitter you should have said so. That way I could have promptly declined.” What kind of con was this?

  Cora pressed her nose against the mesh around the playpen and made spitting noises. Emma Kate wanted to spit too. “Explain yourself.”

  “I did,” Griffin insisted. “I told you that my sister passed away and left me a baby. Which could be considered being upfront.” He gave her a take-that look and folded his arms over his muscular chest.

  He did say that.

  Oh.

  Ooooh.

  “Well,” he demanded.

  “Well what?” Emma Kate fired back. She scanned his living room, scratched her head. “I thought you meant a puppy. I even said she was a pup and you didn’t argue.”

  “You put animals in clothing and it has nothing to do with a circus performance. And you stroll them around in baby strollers. You were going to make that Great Dane apologize for knocking me down. How was I supposed to know you weren’t using weird dog-lover lingo?”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Just because you’ve seen me with a dog doesn’t mean I’d be good with a baby.”

  He huffed. “Are you good with babies?”

  She wanted to growl but he’d make an absurd comment about dog-speak. “Well, yes, but that’s not the point.” She loved them. Wanted scads. Had hoped to already have a few by now.

  “How much different are dogs than babies? They eat. They bark/babble. They poop,” Griffin retorted.

  “Are you being serious right now? Did Creed give you a concussion last night?”

  “I have no clue what to do with a baby. But I see you practically every night taking excellent care of that dog—when you’re not losing him that is. And since this baby is small and can’t walk, I’d think you’d have a better handle on her.” That horrid desperate look entered his eyes again and Emma Kate ignored his barb. He’d seen her. Noticed her.

  Ignored her.

  “So you want a temporary nanny. For a
baby. A human child.” Guess the permanent nanny would be here in a month.

  He rubbed the back of his neck. “Yes. I need you 24/7. Are you in?”

  24/7. “Are you being metaphorical right now or precise? Because clearly we have some communication issues.”

  “Precise. I need you twenty four hours a day. So let me show you to your room.” He started toward the stairs and stopped. “She probably can’t be left alone, can she?”

  “No.” Emma Kate shook her head. “But we have bigger dogs to wrangle here. I’m not living with you. I don’t even know you!”

  “I’m Griffin Noble. I’m the CEO of Noble Construction. I’m thirty-three years old. I’m single. No record. Not even a parking ticket. I have a housekeeper who comes twice a week—so no cleaning or cooking involved here. I have lived in Chicago my whole life and—”

  “Stop.” Emma Kate stared blankly. He was serious. “You can tell me all day long how nice you are. But you know what people say on TV interviews after authorities find nine-hundred dead girls in a backyard? They say, ‘I can’t believe this. He was so nice. Lived here all his life. Had a good job. We had no idea he was a serial killer.’ So your nice guy speech is falling on deaf ears.”

  He tilted his head as if she was the one not making sense. “All of our nannies lived with us.”

  The way he said it. As if everyone had nannies plural. She put on her best Julie Andrews accent and placed her hand over her heart. “Oh, well…if aaaall your nannies lived with you then…” She rolled her eyes.

  “Okay, that came out—”

  “Snotty?” Uppity. Privileged.

  “Slightly arrogant.” He narrowed his eyes. “But I am paying you eighty grand.”

  “And now I’m starting to feel like Julia Roberts in ‘Pretty Woman’.”

  His eyebrow rose. “Funny you mention her.”

  “Ew!”

  He held his hands up in surrender. “That’s not what I meant. But I really am a nice guy. I’m not going to kill you. And I’m not going to enlist any other services, if you get my drift. Besides, you’re not my type.”

  Well. He might as well have told her she’d fallen out of the ugly tree and hit her face a few extra times on the way down. “I’ve had two encounters with you prior to right this second. You’re one out of three for being a nice guy. Not a great track record.”

  “Forty grand a week if you stay the night.”

  Tempting. “How do you know I won’t kill you?”

  He laughed. “I don’t. But I’m willing to take a chance. I’m desperate!”

  If Mama or Honey ever found out she’d lived with a man who wasn’t her husband for a whole month, they’d string her up. “I’ll take the job, but I’m not living here. It’s weird. And no one in their right mind would do it. Not even someone with short-term memory loss.”

  He cracked a lopsided grin. “You make a valid point, but what if she wakes up?”

  “Better than if she doesn’t!” Emma Kate wasn’t going to stand here and argue about living with a strange man all night.

  “I mean at night. What will I do?” His eyes darted to the play pen where Cora sat content, banging stacking donuts together.

  Emma Kate relaxed and softened her tone. “Look, if she wakes up you feed her. I’ll show you how. If she’s crying, and rocking, feeding, or changing her diaper doesn’t work then you can call me and I’ll come right over. But I’m not spending the night here. Deal?”

  “Deal. But we’re back to twenty grand.”

  “Fine.”

  He eyed her, then a slow smile spread, sending shivers all across her skin. “You should have negotiated, Kate. You could have gotten thirty-five out of the deal.”

  She snapped her fingers. “Dang. Maybe I do have short-term memory loss.”

  “Ms. Jones—Regina—said I didn’t have a month’s worth of things. She also said Cora is crawling so I need to baby-proof the house. I’m clueless.”

  Nothing was truer.

  “Can you help me purchase what I need?”

  “Of course.” She grabbed her purse. Griffin was already at the front door with his keys. Emma Kate glanced at Cora gumming a plastic doughnut. “Forgetting something?” Sweet Lord!

  Griffin’s eyes widened and he pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m gonna be so bad at this. I tried to tell the social worker. But she didn’t listen.”

  “I would have listened. Promise you that,” she muttered and scooped up the baby. “You do have a car seat, right?”

  “I do. You think it’ll fit inside an Aston Martin Vanquish?”

  She should have negotiated.

  “Let’s take a cab. Then you can rent a family-sized car of some kind or buy one.”

  Baby Cora grabbed Emma Kate’s cheeks and squeezed and giggled. There may be no love lost between her and the uncle, but no doubt Emma Kate might fall head over heels for this sweet little baby. She couldn’t afford to get attached.

  Chapter 3

  Griffin parked on the street to his historic row house, but didn’t get out. Three days had passed since he enlisted Kate to be Cora’s caregiver. Cora Lee, that’s what Kate called her. He didn’t mind. Giselle had given her daughter his middle name. So she must have forgiven him. But why never show up on his door? He’d never know. Not really. But the Sweet Lord did. According to Kate. Any time that woman came up dumbfounded that’s what she said.

  They’d shopped for baby supplies, baby-proofed the house. He’d leased a Jaguar XJ X351. Much more family-sized. The nursery furniture had been delivered and put together yesterday while he was at work.

  Dad was going to blow a gasket when he found out what Griffin had agreed to. But when Regina Jones had brought Cora into his home and he’d laid eyes on her, he had to do it. He had to at least take her temporarily. She was his spitting image. It was startling how much. And she’d grinned and he had to admit she was the cutest thing he’d ever seen.

  But he only agreed to a month. Shouldn’t have agreed to that, but he owed Giselle something. And it would give them time to set up her trust—maybe he would be able to know the adoptive parents. If he got the contract for the new resort in St. Thomas, he was leaving in a month. Dragging a baby with him wasn’t an option. Leaving her with a nanny for a full month wasn’t either. That wasn’t right.

  He’d already been working around the clock on this pitch and getting the blue prints for the resort perfect. Kate had been on Cora duty more than he had. Giselle wouldn’t want that for her daughter. He didn’t either. History was already repeating itself. If he was being honest, he might have been purposely staying away these past few days. No way he could attach to the kid.

  Kate hadn’t asked too many questions, but she’d mentioned the new permanent nanny coming, and he’d let her believe there was one to avoid her disapproving glares. And she would. In three days, he’d learned Kate Lambert didn’t pull punches with her words and they flowed freely and often. It might be a jerk move to her, but she didn’t understand the emptiness that came with absentee parents. Cora needed a home full of love. Not an empty shell of one like he and Giselle had.

  Griffin climbed out his car. Checked his watch. It was late. Hopefully, Cora would sleep all night. The first night she wouldn’t and Kate didn’t get home until after two. But she’d insisted on leaving. No sleeping over with a serial killer. He’d been paying her cab fare, not wanting her to take the bus that late, and he’d given her a house key.

  Serial killer.

  He laughed all the way up his steps. The woman made him laugh a lot. Which was crazy since the past three days had been the most chaotic of his life. Day after tomorrow he had to bury his sister. Alone if Dad didn’t show. He’d talked to the funeral director and put it off in hopes Dad would fly home and attend.

  He entered the house to the smell of something delicious. His stomach rumbled. He hadn’t eaten since noon. Such a strange feeling coming home to a light on, the smell of dinner, and squealing. He dropped his keys and phone on
the foyer table and entered his living room. Toys flooded the floor along with blankets and books.

  Wow. Like tiptoeing through booby traps, he made his way to the kitchen. The counters were covered in flour, egg shells, and what looked like silks from corn stalks. The sound of banging nearly deafened him. He followed the sound to the laundry room where Cora sat banging copper pots with a wooden spoon. Kate was bent over, pulling baby clothes from the dryer. He took a quick second to appreciate her form, then cleared his throat.

  She popped up and beamed. “Welcome home. Since you’re a night owl, we decided to be too.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Late dinner. Late laundry. Late to bed.” She nodded, closed the dryer, and picked up the basket. “You hungry? I cooked. I know that wasn’t part of the deal, or cleaning, but I’m here so…”

  “Is it any good?”

  She shoved the basket in his arms with a sour expression and picked up Cora, looking adorable in a blue romper. Barefoot. Something pink and sticky around her lips. “I’m not answering that.” She paused and snapped her finger. “I should have negotiated meals for more money.”

  He chuckled. He’d have paid it. If it was edible.

  “Oh, I meant to call you and see if it was okay but—”

  Barking sounded and something whizzed by Griffin’s feet. He dropped the laundry, heart beating out his chest, his head fuzzy.

  Kate scooped up a white fur ball. It looked like a teddy bear and it was wearing…dog clothing. “Meet Westley. He’s my Teddy Bear Dog. I call him Westley because of his black fur around his eyes and nose. Reminds me of him.”

  Griffin stared, willing himself to calm down. To not run from the room. Even this little ball of fluff horrified him. Grabbing his left lobe, he backed away. “I don’t like dogs. Any dogs and it’s not okay.”

  Kate gaped. “Seriously? You don’t like any dogs?”

  “No. And I thought I made that clear when I told you Cora was not allowed at your place of business. Give her to me.” He reached for Cora who was patting the dog’s head and did a double-take. “Did you dress that dog like my…like Cora?”