Hidden Talents

to the fact that she was not dealing with a typical member of the mainstream business establishment.
    The rest of Caleb had been as disconcerting as his eyes. While it was certainly true that he didn't have the wings of an eagle or the tail of a lion, she saw a certain, mysterious, griffin-like quality about him. Caleb had risen from behind his desk that first day, a tall, lean, startlingly graceful man. His hair was as dark as a night in the forest, and his features as bold and uncompromising as the mountains around her. His voice had been deep but virtually devoid of any discernable emotion other than a cool civility.
    The remote, distant quality that emanated from him was initially quite chilling. He had appeared completely self-contained. He projected the image of a man who needed no one, relied on no one, trusted no one.
    Oddly enough, the very strength of that image made Serenity realize that whatever was going on inside Caleb, it was neither calm nor unemotional. No man cultivated such profound self-control unless he had something very fierce and powerful inside himself that needed to be controlled.
    She'd found herself inexplicably drawn to what she knew her friend Zone would describe as the masculine force in Caleb. It fascinated her, intrigued her, and seemed to resonate perfectly with an element deep within her that Zone would label the feminine force. This morning Serenity could still feel echoes of the excitement that had flashed through her when Caleb kissed her in his office. She hadn't experienced anything like those feelings before.
    Too bad Caleb had turned out to be a stiff-necked, straitlaced, sanctimonious prude, she thought now. Shaking off the memories, she walked a little faster.
    The cold fog wove its tendrils around her, making her more aware of the chill in the air. In another couple of weeks the first snows would arrive in the mountains. Witt's End would be snugly tucked up for the winter.
    Serenity huddled deeper into her jacket, wishing she'd never written that letter to the president of Ventress Ventures last month. She should have sought start-up help for her new business from another source.
    But even if the abrupt termination of her arrangement with Caleb had been for the best, she was outraged at the reason. Her mouth tightened. She still could not bring herself to believe that Ambrose, a neighbor and friend, had actually tried to blackmail her. It made no sense.
    The whole thing had seemed ludicrous yesterday morning, when she opened the envelope in her Seattle hotel room. Not for one moment had she dreamed that Caleb would take the threat seriously.
    He had a nerve, she thought. He was a businessman, after all, a member of corporate America. Who was he to throw stones? He probably consulted for companies that dumped toxic waste into rivers. Maybe he had a wife whom he had never bothered to mention, too. Serenity winced.
    She grabbed a branch that was in her path and shoved it aside.
    A sudden tingle of awareness made her pause. She glanced to the left and saw a dark shadow materialize in the fog. A small frisson of uneasiness went through her. She swung around to face the creature that coalesced in front of her.
    The beast fixed her with a steady gaze as it padded slowly toward her. The studded steel collar around its neck glinted evilly in the gray light.
    Serenity relaxed. “Oh, hello, Styx. Where's your buddy?”
    Another rottweiller trotted forward out of the fog. He was wearing a studded steel collar similar to his companion's.
    “There you are, Charon. How's it going, pal?”
    The black-and-tan dogs made no sound as they approached. When they reached Serenity, they lifted their massive heads for a pat. Serenity scratched the animals behind their ears. “What are you guys doing, running around in the fog? You should be lying in front of a nice, warm fire. Where's Blade?”
    “Right here, Serenity.”
    Serenity turned her head at the sound of the familiar raspy drawl. The man everyone in Witt's End knew only as Blade emerged from the mists.
    He was built very much like his rottweilers; big, heavily muscled, with huge shoulders and a barrel chest. He had a large, square-jawed face, eyes the color of blue steel, and virtually no neck. Beneath his fatigue cap, his hair was cropped very close to his skull.
    Serenity assumed Blade was approximately fifty, but it was difficult to be certain. He had never volunteered any information about his age. In Witt's End there was an