Hidden Talents

  Caleb came to stand in the doorway of the tiny kitchen. “Dealing with blackmailers can be dangerous.”

  “So what? It's none of your business.” Serenity dashed the dampness away from her eyes with the sleeve of her tunic. She put the kettle onto the stove and switched on the burner. “I told you, poor Ambrose is gone. He can't give anyone any answers.”

  “You said yourself that the blackmailer might have been someone other than Ambrose.”

  “That's true.” Serenity slid him a quick glance. “But as you so succinctly put it yesterday, it's my problem, not yours.”

  “Unfortunately, according to the terms of that contract you signed in my office, that's not the case. I told you, I've got standards. You're a client, Serenity, and I have never yet abandoned a client. I don't intend to start now.”

  Serenity stared at him. The flicker of hope within her died. Caleb was here because of his precious, inviolable business standards, not because he felt anything for her. “Forget it. I don't want your help. Not in this blackmail thing or anything else.”

  “You don't have a hell of a lot of choice. I'm not about to let you ruin my reputation.”

  She widened her eyes in sheer amazement. “Your reputation.”

  “That contract you signed is iron-clad. I should know, I wrote it. Unless I choose to let you out of it early, you're stuck with paying my extremely high fees.”

  “You weren't going to charge me any fees,” she said. “You were going to take a cut of the profits instead.”

  “You obviously didn't read clause number ten very closely,” Caleb said smoothly. “It provides for full payment of my standard fees in the event that you cancel the project before completion. Be reasonable, Serenity, I can't see you wanting to pay all that money and not get something for it.”

  “I don't intend to pay you a dime.”

  “I can line up a whole team of lawyers who will see to it that you do.” Caleb's mouth curved in a faint smile that did not alter the detached watchfulness in his eyes. “Like it or not, it looks like we're going to be partners.”

  3

  SERENITY STARED AT CALEB. “FOR A MAN WHO DOESN'T approve of blackmail, you're very good at it.”

  Caleb's jaw tightened but his gaze never wavered. If anything, his expression grew more forbidding. “This isn't blackmail. It's business.”

  “Is that all you ever think about? Business?” How could she have been so wrong about this man? Serenity wondered. She'd actually gained the impression somewhere along the line that the two of them had something in common, that their inner voices spoke to each other, that they somehow understood each other, silently yearned for each other.

  Obviously her normally astute powers of intuition had become confused and disoriented in the fog caused by the attraction she had felt for Caleb. She suddenly realized that this was her first brush with real passion, the kind that involved body and soul.

  “No, business is not the only thing I think about,” Caleb said evenly. “But it's definitely high on my list of priorities.”

  “I can see that.” The kettle shrilled. Serenity picked up a spoon, opened a canister and began to ladle tea into a pot. “Some of us have other priorities.”

  “Are you telling me that getting a viable mail order business going here in Witt's End isn't still high on your priority list?”

  “I'll find another way to get it up and running. I don't need your help.”

  “You're going to get my help whether you want it or not.” Caleb's smile was humorless. “As long as you're paying for it, you might as well take advantage of the opportunity.”

  “What opportunity? The opportunity to work with someone who thinks I'm pond scum because I once posed nude for a professional photographer?”

  “No, Serenity,” Caleb said with cool patience. “I think you should take advantage of the opportunity to work with the man who is arguably one of the best, if not the best, start-up consultant in the Northwest.”

  Serenity widened her eyes. “And so refreshingly modest, too.” She yanked the kettle off the stove and poured boiling water over the tea leaves in the pot.

  “Take it easy.” Caleb's tone softened as he watched her wield the kettle. “I know you're upset. You've obviously been through a traumatic experience today, what with finding Asterley's body and all. When you've had a chance to calm down, we'll talk about future plans.”

  “Don't hold your breath. I might not calm down for a long, long time.”

  “I'll wait.” Caleb's brows rose as he watched her prepare the tea. “Mind if I have some? It was a long trip.”

  Serenity hesitated. The temptation to refuse him a cup of tea was almost overwhelming. But that would be petty and spiteful, she told herself. “All right.” She reached reluctantly into the cupboard and took down another mug, one fashioned in the shape of a bright yellow flower.

  “I don't use milk or sugar,” Caleb said helpfully.

  “I didn't ask.” She shoved the flower mug into his hand.

  “I know. But I'm sure you would have sooner or later.” Caleb examined the beautifully worked pottery mug he was holding. “An example of local craftsmanship?”

  “Zone makes them in her spare time.”

  “Who's Zone?”

  “She works for me as an assistant at Witt's End Grocery.”

  “I like her style.” Caleb ran a long finger over the abstract petals of the mug. “Clever and whimsical. But it's got a sharp, crisp, modern edginess to it.”

  Serenity was surprised by his perception. “That's a good description of her work.”

  “It'll sell.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  Caleb looked up from the mug. “I said, it will sell. We'll put her mugs in your catalog. Assuming, of course, that Zone can produce a sufficient quantity in a reliable time frame.”

  “I'm sure she can.” She hesitated. “How do you know her mugs will work in the catalog?”

  “It's my business to know that kind of thing. I have a feel for it. It's one of the reasons I'm so good at my job.”

  “Have you ever sold mugs?”

  He shrugged. “Not until now. Trust me, Serenity, these will work.”

  “If you say so.” Enthusiasm surged through her. He liked Zone's beautiful mugs. He thought they would sell. Serenity could hardly wait to tell her assistant the good news. Zone would be thrilled. Serenity had to struggle hard not to betray her excitement.

  Caleb sipped tea thoughtfully. “I don't think you're pond scum, you know.”

  “Yes, you do.” She started toward the doorway where he stood blocking her path. “But I don't particularly care what you think. I should have known better than to get involved with a man like you in the first place.”

  Caleb waited until the last possible moment before moving out of her way. “A man like me? What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  “Arrogant, elitist, rigid, self-righteous, and inflexible.” Serenity was intensely aware of the heat and strength in him as she brushed through the doorway. He was much too close. She hurried into the living room and sank down into the corner of the over-stuffed sofa.

  “That's quite a list.”

  “Is it? Let's be honest here. How would you characterize me?”

  He considered her question as he seated himself in the room's single armchair. “Naive, gullible, too trusting, emotional, and completely inexperienced in modern business practices.”

  “You may have a point,” Serenity said. “I must possess a host of those sterling attributes or I wouldn't have misjudged you so completely.”

  “Believe it or not, I didn't intend for this conversation to degenerate into a slinging match.”

  “What did you expect it to degenerate into, what with me being so emotional and all?”

  “I'd like to talk business,” Caleb said calmly.

  Serenity pursed her lips. “I doubt that we can do that now that we've discovered we have nothing in common.” She would not let him see how much his con
descending words offended her, she vowed silently. And she definitely would not let him see that at least some of the barbs had struck deep.

  No, make that all of the barbs, she thought glumly. She had been naive. She had been too trusting. She had also been emotional, and she was certainly inexperienced in dealing with men like Caleb.

  “Try to keep this situation in perspective, Serenity.” Caleb's voice grew darker and deeper. “This is just business.”

  “According to you, business is not my forte.”

  He drew a deep breath. “Look, you need me if you're going to proceed with your big plans to get a mail order operation going here in Witt's End. Admit it.”

  “Maybe I'll try opening the new business without the aid of a fancy start-up consultant,” Serenity mused. “Lord knows that every time I get involved with men from your world I wind up getting burned.” She shook her head in disgust. “You'd think I'd have learned my lesson by now.”

  “Men from my world? What is this? You make it sound like I come from outer space.”

  “You might as well have come from Mars as far as I'm concerned.” Serenity curled her legs under her and took a swallow of tea.

  “Damn it, I'm not some kind of freak.”

  The savage edge in his voice startled her. It was almost as if, deep down, Caleb believed he might actually be some kind of freak. An unwelcome sense of empathy tingled inside Serenity. She knew that feeling of being different, of not belonging, of being an outsider. She had felt it often enough during her years at Bullington College.

  “Look, there's no getting around the fact that you and I come from different worlds,” she said. “For the record, I tried living in your world once upon a time. It was a disaster.”

  Caleb frowned. “What do you mean, you tried living in my world?”

  Serenity lifted one shoulder in a small shrug. “Believe it or not, there was a time when I couldn't wait to see Witt's End in my rearview mirror. I was seventeen and ready to take on the world. I started with Bullington.”

  The corner of Caleb's mouth twitched. “Bullington is only thirty miles away.”

  “It was a start. In any event, for me it might as well have been the other side of the world.”

  “I can see how being raised here in Witt's End might not give you a truly cosmopolitan background,” Caleb said dryly.

  “Life is different here,” she agreed quietly. “At any rate, I enrolled in Bullington College, and after I graduated I worked there for a while as an instructor in the sociology department. For a time I lived on campus. I wanted to be normal, you see.”

  “Normal?” Caleb gave her a quizzical look.

  “I guess all kids rebel against the lifestyle and upbringing they experience in their childhood. Kids raised in conventional, middle-class households want to be free. They want to break the rules.”

  “What did you want?”

  “Me?” Serenity grimaced. “Believe it or not, I wanted rules. I was raised without structure and routine, so naturally I longed for a world where people did things on time. A place where you could count on a certain degree of orderliness. A place where people planned for the future instead of just going with the flow. I thought I wanted to live in an environment where people worked regular hours instead of waiting for inspiration to strike.”

  “I see.”

  “I wanted a savings account,” Serenity continued, amused as always by her own youthful ambitions. “I wanted a car mechanic who didn't try to fix a broken water pump with a meditation mantra. I wanted a fulfilling, successful career in academia complete with retirement benefits.”

  “What did you find?”

  “I found out that savings accounts pay very low interest rates, that car mechanics who don't chant mantras are not any better than those who do, that the academic career ladder is very slippery, and that no one can count on retirement benefits anymore.”

  Caleb sipped his tea. “You learned a lot.”

  “Uh-huh. And the lesson that I learned best is that I don't fit into the so-called normal world. Oh, I can pass for a short period of time, but I can't live there very happily for any extended period. I was born into an eccentric, frontier society, and that's where I'll always feel most comfortable.”

  “You think you fit in here at Witt's End?” Caleb asked.

  “It's home. People know me here. They understand me and accept me for what I am. Here in Witt's End, we're very tolerant of each other's eccentricities.”

  “Is that a fact?”

  Serenity set her back teeth. “Believe it or not, no one around here would blink an eye at the notion of someone posing nude for an artist. Happens all the time.”

  Caleb placed his cup very carefully on the beautifully polished end table that Julius Makepeace had built by hand. “But you need someone from my world to help you get your business ideas off the ground, don't you?”

  “I thought I did.” Serenity narrowed her eyes. “Now, I'm not so sure.”

  “Believe me,” Caleb said, “you need me. Left to your own devices, you're going to lose every dime you sink into Witt's End by Mail.”

  Enough was enough. “I'm not stupid. Inexperienced, maybe, but definitely not stupid.”

  Caleb looked at her, mildly amazed. “I agree. But you do lack experience in the mail order business. You've got a lot to learn, lady.”

  “And you're going to teach me?”

  “Looks like it.”

  “Whether or not I want to take the course, is that it?”

  Caleb stretched his legs out in front of him, leaned back in his chair and regarded her from beneath half-lowered lids. “Like I said a few minutes ago, I've got a reputation for maintaining certain standards. I don't intend to let you ruin my track record.”

  A flicker of deep uncertainty went through Serenity. She suddenly had a strong hunch that Caleb was not telling her the truth about his motives. But she could not imagine any other explanation for his presence here in Witt's End.

  “Something's missing in this equation,” she finally said. “It occurs to me that I'm ignoring the financial aspect.”

  “What financial aspect?”

  “Maybe you're willing to overlook my notorious past in favor of the future profits you expect to make as a silent partner in Witt's End by Mail. Is that it?”

  Caleb's mouth tightened. “What do you think?”

  “I think that with motives like that, you've got a lot of nerve looking down on me simply because I once posed nude. Definitely a case of the pot calling the kettle black.”

  “You're welcome to think what you like about my motives,” Caleb said in a voice that dripped shards of ice. “But for your information, the profits I expect to make off your mail order business aren't going to amount to enough to make my accountants even blink.”

  “Hah. I'll bet some sneaky start-up consultant once said that to L.L. Bean.”

  “Why don't we just agree to disagree on that point,” Caleb suggested. “Let's try coming at this relationship from a fresh angle.”

  “We don't have a relationship,” Serenity said quickly.

  “No?”

  “No.” Serenity flushed at the memory of the kiss in Caleb's office. She knew by the look in his eyes that he was recalling it, too. “I'll admit that at one point I thought we might be able to have one, but I realize now that I was mistaken. You and I, well, we aren't—”

  “You misunderstood me,” Caleb said smoothly. “I wasn't talking about a personal relationship. I was referring to our business relationship.”

  “Oh.” Serenity's cheeks burned.

  “I suggest you stop thinking about this arrangement in personal terms and start thinking in business terms.”

  “Is this lesson one?”

  “It is.”

  He was lying, Serenity realized. She sensed that for all his talk about keeping matters on a businesslike basis, Caleb was here for some very personal reasons. Perhaps his reputation really was that important to him, although it was hard for h
er to understand how losing one small client in Witt's End, Washington, could harm him professionally.

  On the other hand, she thought, Caleb was imbued with a glacial pride. He was the kind of man for whom standards and a reputation were no doubt extremely personal things. He probably didn't give a damn about what others might think, but she sensed that he cared passionately about not violating his own code.

  “Let me see if I've got this right,” Serenity said. “The bottom line here is that you're willing to put serious pressure on me to accept you as my consultant just so that you can tell yourself that you haven't lowered your professional standards. Is that it?”

  Caleb hesitated. “Let's just say that's a practical way of looking at the situation.”

  Serenity shrugged. “Okay, you win. Go out and build me a mail order empire.”

  Caleb didn't move from the chair. “It won't be easy, you know.”

  “Nonsense. For a man of your abilities, I'm sure it will be a piece of cake. You'll probably have everything up and running by next Tuesday. Call me when you've finished.”

  “It's a cooperative venture, Serenity.”

  “You'll have to excuse me, I'm not feeling terribly cooperative at the moment. And I've got a lot of other things on my mind. It isn't every day that I stumble across a neighbor's dead body.”

  “A neighbor who took pictures that were later used to blackmail you,” Caleb pointed out grimly. “The guy couldn't have been much of a friend.”

  “I considered Ambrose a friend,” Serenity said quietly. “And that's the way I prefer to remember him.”

  “Regardless of the fact that he might have been the one behind the blackmail attempt?”

  “If Ambrose was the blackmailer, he must have had his reasons. He was probably driven to it by desperation.”

  “Desperation for what?” Caleb demanded. “Hell, I don't believe this. You're inventing excuses for a blackmailer?”

  “We don't know that he was the blackmailer.”

  “Okay, let's pursue that avenue of inquiry. Who else had access to those photos?”

  Serenity sighed. The logic was inescapable. “No one, as far as I know. I can't see Ambrose giving them to anyone else. There was no reason for him to do so.”