Hidden Talents

has probably come as a surprise to you. It certainly has to me.”
    Caleb spread his fingers flat across the gleaming surface of his glass-and-steel desk. “Why would anyone blackmail you, Miss Makepeace?”
    “I'm not sure.” Her red brows drew together in a serious, considering expression. “It was the strangest thing. The pictures were addressed to me at my hotel this morning. There was a note with them that said copies would be sent to you if I didn't break off my business dealings with Ventress Ventures immediately.”
    “Pictures?” Caleb's insides tightened. Please, don't let it be what I think it's going to be . “Of you?”
    Serenity blushed but did not look away. “Yes.”
    “With someone?” Caleb made himself ask very carefully. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad. Maybe they were photos of her with a past lover. She was twenty-eight years old, he reminded himself. She was bound to have had a few affairs. He could handle that. He'd had a few of his own. Not many, but a few.
    “No. The pictures are of me alone. They were taken about six months ago.”
    Caleb set his back teeth. “What, exactly, are you doing in these photos?”
    “Nothing much. I'm just sort of lying around in most of them.”
    “Just sort of lying around.” Caleb picked up a pen and tapped it very, very gently against the glass desktop. Ting, ting, ting . The noise grated on his ears. “What makes the pictures suitable for blackmail purposes, Ms. Makepeace?”
    “That's just the point. I don't think they are suitable for blackmail.” Her lovely mouth curved ruefully. “But someone apparently believes that they're potentially damning. At least in your eyes.”
    “Why do you think someone might have that impression?”
    Serenity shrugged with graceful nonchalance. The airy motion made her look even more out of place in the prim little gray suit. “I'm not exactly sure why anyone would think of them as blackmail material. I suppose it's because I'm not wearing much in any of them.”
    “Just how much are you wearing in the pictures?”
    She touched the little griffin that hung from the chain around her throat. It was obvious that the pendant had originally been finished with an imitation gold overlay. The cheap veneer had since worn off in several places, allowing the inexpensive metal underneath to show through on the wings of the beast. “Mostly I'm just wearing this.”
    “Nude photos. Christ.” Caleb threw down the pen and got to his feet. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his expensively tailored trousers and paced to the window.
    Was this what it had been like for his family all those years ago? he wondered. He brushed the fleeting thought aside. He knew very well that the old scandal had been a thousand times worse for his grandfather and the rest of the proud Ventress clan. After all, his father, Gordon Ventress, had been married when the photos of his mistress, Crystal Brooke, had been sent to Caleb's grandfather, Roland.
    Crystal Brooke had been the stage name of the part-time model, would-be starlet, and full-time hustler who had gotten her bright red claws into the wealthy up-and-coming young politician from Ventress Valley, Washington.
    Caleb had never known his mother Crystal, but he had been told a great deal about her during his youth. Her specialty had been nude spread shots for the sort of men's magazines that were not generally purchased because of the high quality of the articles.
    When the evidence of his son's affair with Crystal Brooke had reached Roland Ventress, the ensuing explosion had rocked the conservative farm town of Ventress Valley. Toughened by years of ranching, a stint in the military, and a streak of gritty stubbornness that ran in the family, Roland had flatly refused to pay the blackmail demand.
    The anonymous blackmailer had promptly sent the pictures to the Ventress Valley News . The editor of the town's only newspaper had been feuding with Roland Ventress at the time. He had gleefully printed a photo of Crystal that had been carefully cropped to make it suitable for a small-town paper. The accompanying editorial had fulminated against the declining morals and abysmal ethics of young Gordon Ventress. It had questioned his suitability for a seat in the state legislature.
    The resulting scandal had ripped the family apart. Gordon's elegant, young wife, Patricia, raised in an old-money, East Coast family, had done her duty up to a point. She had bravely stood by her husband until