Nothing To Lose. RaeAnne Thayne

have used all the support she could find had been one more shock to get over.

      “Anyway, even if I am…attracted…to Wyatt McKinnon, I could never do anything about it. I don’t have the time or energy for that kind of complication right now. I just don’t. With school and Hunter and the appeal, I don’t have anything left to give.”

      “Sometimes you just have to find the time and energy, especially when it comes to a man like McKinnon.”

      “Says the woman whose personal relationship rule is not to date the same man more than three times.”

      Kate gave her a pointed look. “Don’t change the subject. We were talking about you, not me.”

      “I’d rather talk about you,” Taylor muttered.

      “I’m sure you would,” Kate said. Her smile slid away after a moment. “I’m just saying be careful, that’s all.”

      Obviously Taylor hadn’t been as successful as she’d hoped at hiding from her friend the strange effect Wyatt had on her, if Kate thought this little lecture was necessary.

      She had spent the past three days trying to figure out what it was about him that struck such a responsive chord in her. He was gorgeous, Kate was certainly right about that. Lean and masculine, with those intense eyes and his surprisingly sweet smile.

      She suspected her strong reaction to him—and the disquiet it sparked in her—was from more than just a hormonal reaction to a gorgeous man. The other day at the diner, she had seen the kindness in his eyes. Something about his quiet calm had comforted her, steadied her, more than all the warm tea in the world.

      “I’ll be fine,” she finally answered Kate, wishing she believed her own words. “I’d be better if I knew I could count on you for moral support. A nice, friendly buffer. I never would have brought home La Trattoria if I thought for one moment you would be abandoning me.”

      “Ha. Nice try. Your guilt trip is not going to work on me this time.”

      “Not even a little?” Taylor asked hopefully.

      “I have rounds! I don’t have any choice—I can’t help it if my schedule was changed. With this flu outbreak, Sterling has all the residents on double shifts. I’m going to be late as it is if I don’t hurry!”

      Taylor gave her a quick hug. “Don’t worry about me. I’m sorry I badgered you.”

      Kate hurried for the front door to pick up the battered denim jacket she adored. She grabbed her keys off the hall table. “You know I’m going to expect total deets in the morning, right? I’ll pick up Krispy Kreme on my way home, so be ready to spill.”

      “I will.” Taylor gave her another hug. “You can have leftover lasagna and doughnuts for breakfast.”

      “Mmm. My favorite.”

      With a laugh, Kate rushed out the door. Taylor watched her go, aware of the jealousy settling like a hard, greasy lump in her stomach.

      She wanted to be the one running out the door to the hospital. Just went to show how crazy she was, she thought, that she could actually envy Kate the upcoming twelve hours on her feet dealing with surly patients and reams of paperwork.

      She fiercely wanted to go back and finish medical school, to serve the residency she’d been promised in pediatrics. She had told Wyatt the truth about that the other day at the diner. Though she knew it wasn’t fair, that it was petty and small, sometimes it chewed her up inside that Kate had the freedom to follow her dreams while Taylor was trapped in a world she hated, a world that threatened to suck the life out of her.

      Taylor sighed, ashamed of her moment of weakness. How could she feel sorry for herself and decry her own lack of freedom? If the mood struck her, she could walk outside right now and enjoy the cool bite of an October evening or the sweet scent of the late-blooming flowers in her garden.

      She could run to her favorite Italian restaurant for all the lasagna her heart desired, could top it off with a big bowl of triple chocolate Häagen-Dazs from the freezer if she wanted.

      Hunter could do none of those things. He truly had no freedom, no choices. Until he did, she could put her own dreams on hold.

      Wyatt wasn’t sure what to expect from Taylor’s house. From his research and from testimony during the trial, he knew she came from money—her great-grandfather Bradshaw had been a wealthy silver baron in Park City during its mining heyday. Through prudent investments, the Bradshaws had managed to hang on to their money at a time when many other mining magnates went broke.

      That had been one of the more intriguing aspects of her brother’s case that the media had played up relentlessly—Hunter had come from wealth and privilege. He hadn’t needed to work a day in his life if he didn’t want to, yet he had dirtied his hands by playing at being a cop. Rich boy turned cop turned killer.

      For all he knew, Taylor could live in some starchy Avenues mansion. But when he followed the directions she’d given him three days earlier, he found a neighborhood of small cottages. Though the houses were small and the yards minuscule, this was a desirable area, neatly sandwiched between the University of Utah campus and Salt Lake City’s downtown. The houses were old but charming, with residents who kept them freshly painted and tidy.

      With its cheerful blue shutters and fall flower garden, Taylor’s house reminded him a little of the cottage his brother Gage had rented in Park City earlier in the summer, where he had met his fiancée Allie and her two darling little girls.

      A group of children played basketball on a standard tacked to the garage of the house next door, and on the other side, a rail-thin gray-haired man paused his leaf-raking long enough to study Wyatt with curiosity, making him wonder if Taylor didn’t have many male callers.

      Before he turned off his engine in front of her house, he saw a small silver Honda back out and drive away, but from his angle he couldn’t get a glimpse of the driver.

      Maybe Taylor chickened out and decided not to meet with him. Wyatt rejected the thought as soon as it entered his mind. She struck him as the kind of woman who would never back down from a fight. Besides, he had seen her car the other afternoon at the prison and knew she drove a Subaru wagon.

      Anticipation flickered through him at knowing he would see her again. He was grimly aware that he had done entirely too much thinking about Taylor the past few days.

      Objectivity.

      He repeated the word in a low mantra as he hit the locks on his Tahoe and climbed out into the October evening. He might be fiercely attracted to Taylor, but he couldn’t allow that to distract him from his goal. He was going to write her brother’s story.

      No, he corrected himself. He was going to write Dru and Mickie Ferrin’s stories. Big difference, one he needed to remember. They were the reason he was here.

      Taylor Bradshaw was a source for his book, that’s all. As a loving, devoted sister, she could give him rare insight into her brother’s mind and heart, perceptions he might not even be able to get from Bradshaw himself. She could tell him what it had been like growing up as the two children of a man who by all accounts had been as strict with his children as he’d been on the bench.

      Maybe she could even shed some light into what might have made Hunter snap that night.

      He rang the doorbell and smiled at the curious neighbor, amused that the elderly man was still watching with his rake in his hands as if he was prepared to use it if Wyatt threatened Taylor in any way.

      The door opened a moment later and, before he could even say hello, he was accosted by a sleek Irish setter. The dog didn’t bark at him or jump up, but she blocked his way inside, sniffing and wagging her tail in greeting, until he reached down to pet her.

      She immediately took that as permission to get up close and personal. She rubbed her head against his thigh eagerly, that long auburn tail going like crazy.

      Taylor stepped forward, her color high—at