Losing Control - By Robyn Grady Page 0,25

V of bare chest visible above the opening of his shirt, she headed off with him following. "I have a few things to tidy up before we leave."

In the kitchen, she pulled a bag of cat biscuits from the pantry while Cole strolled over to her Formica counter.

"You have a cat?"

"She's not mine. Not really."

"Then why are you feeding it?" he asked as she set the food bowl down outside the back door and brought the water bowl in for a refill.

"It has a name. Muffin."

"Cats have name tags now?"

"She's a stray. But she's yellow and fluffy like a vanilla cake." Muffin just seemed to fit. She crossed back over to place the fresh water outside, too. "She's close to giving birth."

"Well, do you think you should encourage her?"

She sent him a look. "I can't just leave her and her kittens to starve, or be picked off by birds and snakes. I'd bundle her up and take her to the vet if I could get close enough. Even with her big belly, she's too quick to catch."

"Maybe she's a free spirit." He shrugged. "Maybe she doesn't want a home."

Taryn remembered saying the same thing to Vi last week. But her aunt was right. No one, and that included a cat, chose to be without someplace to feel safe and warm and wanted.

As she turned back from locking the door, Cole's cell phone beeped. He spoke for a couple of minutes then, thoughtful, slotted the phone away.

Moving to the sink, she asked, "Something up at the station?"

"No. That was Brandon checking in."

"More news on your father's situation?"

The sleeves of Cole's casual white button-down were rolled to below the elbow. Now he rested two bronzed forearms horizontal on the counter and absently rotated the platinum watchband circling one wrist, a habit that, she'd noticed, he'd inherited from his dad.

"Seems the man who Jeremy Judge chased in front of that car had a gripe with Hunter Enterprises News division. A year ago he spoke with one of our reporters about a financial institution moving to foreclose on his mortgage. The editor didn't pick up the story. When the man's home went under, he decided to blame us. Brandon hasn't been able to find anything else remotely criminal in his background." He rotated the watchband again. "His wife had left him. Kids are grown-up, moved away."

To Taryn's mind that made the situation all the worse. Sounded like that man had no one to turn to, no one to listen. Maybe he felt he had nothing to live for, which made the "falling under a car" part of the story more believable. All his problems were over now.

At the meals table, she collected a vase then crossed to drop dried blooms and brittle leaves into the trash. She adored choosing flowers for their perfume and color. It was her weekly indulgence. She only wished they lasted longer.

Cole had strolled over to a window. Drawing back the curtain, he scanned the scene outside. Was he looking for the cat, or something - someone - more sinister?

"The gunman didn't have a psychiatric history." He dropped the curtain. "Guess tough times can bring out the worst in us all."

Perhaps, but, "People have choices."

His smile was curious. Maybe admirable. "A woman of integrity."

"What are we without it?"

"Ask my siblings. Wait. I take that back. Wynn at least tries."

Filling the vase with water to soak, Taryn reminded herself, Wynn was the brother who looked after the magazine arm of Hunters in New York.

"He has good intentions," Cole said, checking his cell again. "But I'm afraid my younger brother has a tendency to think with his heart before his brain. Which is probably better than Dex's drawback."

Dex...Cole's movie-making brother in L.A., Taryn thought, checking the setting then clicking on the dishwasher.

"He's got it up here as far as business is concerned." Cole tapped his temple. "Unfortunately he prefers to think with lower portions of his anatomy."

"I've read about his exploits," she said.

"I doubt he'd mind me saying that was skimming the surface."

"What do your brothers think about their father's situation?"

He followed as she moved around the house, making certain windows were locked.

"We shared a conference call," Cole said. "Wynn and Dex both want to fly out, give him some moral support. See if there's anything they can do."

"Your brothers aren't all bad, then."

She glanced over her shoulder. Cole's expression had turned wistful, as if he might be remembering happier times. Then his brows knitted again.

"I couldn't get in touch with Teagan."

"Your