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 her 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.”
“The blackmailer wanted you to call off your business discussions with me,” Caleb said. “Who would want to see your plans shot down?”
“I don't know.” Serenity was getting impatient with the inquisition. The man was like a locomotive. Once he started moving, it was difficult to stop him. “Furthermore, it's none of your affair.”
“I disagree. I'm your consultant, remember?”
“I'd prefer to forget.”
“I'm not going to let it slip your mind,” Caleb said. “But we can talk about some of this stuff later.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“The first item on my agenda is to find a place to stay tonight. I didn't notice a motel anywhere in Witt's End.”
“The closest one is thirty miles back down the road in Bullington,” she said helpfully.
“That's going to be a little inconvenient.” Caleb glanced out the window. “The fog has gotten worse. I'd have to be crazy to try to drive thirty miles down that mountain road in this soup.”
“Don't look at me,” Serenity said, alarmed by the direction the conversation seemed to be taking. “I don't do bed and breakfast.”
Caleb examined the book-lined living room of the
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