Hidden Talents

still convinced that she was right about his ability to love. In the past few days she had seen the banked fires in his eyes, felt the gentleness in his touch, caught glimpses of the deepest reaches of his soul.
    Surely a man with such depths had to be capable of giving and receiving love.
    Last night she had concluded that the real problem was that Caleb's working definition of love was an extremely narrow one. A person learned about love, after all, from example.
    Until she had come along, Serenity realized, the only kind of love Caleb had ever known was the kind that came with strings attached.
    It was no wonder he didn't recognize his true feelings for her, Serenity thought as she took another swipe with the duster. For Caleb, the word love had a lot of harsh definitions. Most of them had to do with icy concepts of duty and responsibility. The negative, underlying message that Caleb had always received from his family had been that if he repeated his father's mistakes, he would be unworthy of love.
    The meaning of love for Caleb was all tied up with the necessity to prove himself over and over again to a family that never quite trusted him. Or forgave him for the past.
    But he felt something else for her, something that he didn't yet understand because it wasn't icy and stark and unforgiving like the concept of duty. It was something for which he did not yet have a clear definition, let alone a name.
    At least, she hoped that was true. Because if it wasn't, if she was deluding herself, she was going to pay a terrible price.
    That fact left her faced with a dangerous choice. She either took a chance that she was right about Caleb's feelings for her or else she let her own chance at love slip away.
    “Serenity, perhaps you should meditate on this decision a little longer,” Zone said gently. “Ariadne says that Caleb is different from the other men you've known.”
    “That's true.” Totally different from any man she had ever known, she thought with a small smile.
    “Serenity?” Zone stared at her. “Is something wrong?”
    “No. I was just wondering if I should order another batch of Luther's homemade salsa. We're running low. Caleb says it's going to be a big seller in the catalog, by the way.”
    Zone sighed. “Please don't misunderstand. I know Caleb has got wonderful plans for your mail order business. And I am personally, very, very grateful to him. He and Blade together probably saved my life. But I'm just not certain Caleb's the right soul mate for you. Even though I like him, I still sense danger in his vicinity.”
    “I thought you'd decided you'd gotten his vibrations mixed up with Royce Kincaid's.”
    Zone frowned thoughtfully. “It's true that I did, but I have that all sorted out now and things still don't feel quite right. I detect more darkness in Caleb's aura.”
    “I'll bear that in mind.”
    The phone rang before Zone could continue. Relieved at the excuse to end the conversation, Serenity put down her duster and hurried to answer the summons.
    She dodged behind the counter, rounded the corner of the office doorway and grabbed the receiver. “Witt's End Grocery.”
    “I wish to speak to Miss Serenity Makepeace.”
    There was no mistaking Phyllis's perpetually disapproving tone. Serenity was not in a mood to deal with her. She was, in fact, thoroughly annoyed with the entire Ventress clan today.
    Last night she had come to the stunning realization that she may have been the first person in history who had actually said the words “I love you” out loud to Caleb. If it was true, the Ventresses had a lot to answer for as far as she was concerned.
    “This is Serenity. What can I do for you, Mrs. Tarrant?”
    “I do not appreciate the fact that I am forced to make this call, Miss Makepeace.”
    “Well, I'm not real thrilled with having to take it, either, so let's get it over with.”
    “Very well, I shall be blunt. I suspect that is the only approach your sort understands. Franklin and I have talked it over. How much do you want?”
    Serenity caught her breath. Then she forced a lightness that she was far from feeling into her voice. “How much? Oh, dear. Are you selling something, Mrs. Tarrant? Door-to-door cosmetics, perhaps? I really don't use very much of that kind of stuff, but I suppose I could buy some hand cream or something.”
    “Your sarcasm serves no purpose except to waste time. You may as well be as straightforward with me as I am being with you. Just tell me how