not.” She jerked hard to try to break his hold.
He only stepped closer toward her.
“My security guard is coming back any moment.” She hoped. “Let go of me.”
He suddenly did, and she stumbled backward.
He had an inscrutable look on his face. “Something has happened to her.” It wasn’t a question.
Her heart had begun to slow now that he’d released her. “Do you…do you want to leave a message for her?” It was a last-ditch effort—she had to find out who he was.
He looked straight into her eyes, then he bolted.
“Hey!”
It was only then that Devon noticed the dark figure passing through the double doors of the spa, running straight toward them.
The guard stepped forward and reached for his flashlight. “You there—!”
But the unknown man barreled into the guard, knocking the flashlight away. He pinballed toward Devon.
Devon grabbed the man by his torso. The stranger had a light build but solid muscle under his cotton shirt. Devon grunted as he tried to stop him from running away. The security guard attempted to capture a flailing arm.
The man knocked the back of his elbow into Devon’s throat, then smashed something into Devon’s hand. It cracked and sliced into him, and his hold loosened enough for the man to burst free. The guard tripped and fell to the ground as the man sprinted away.
Devon raced after him, but the blow to his throat made it hard to breathe. The man leaped into the convertible and it roared to life as Devon reached out to touch the hood. With a squeal of tires and the heavy scent of burning rubber, the man was gone.
Then he realized. Naomi had been in the spa alone.
“Hey!”
Naomi rounded the other corner of the receptionists’ desk the same time the stranger did. She ran at him, but he sidestepped and swung his arm wide, knocking her to the floor. Her elbow and chin hit the cold marble painfully.
Martin’s voice filtered through the slowly closing double doors. “You there—!” Thank goodness, maybe Martin would stop the guy. She hadn’t even gotten his name!
Naomi hauled open the spa’s double doors in time to hear an engine roar, then fade as the car drove away. Scanning past the rose trees, she lifted on tiptoe but couldn’t see the parking lot from the doorway, so she stepped outside. Then she saw Martin with Devon Knightley.
“What are you doing here? And what happened?” She opened the doors and walked back into the entrance foyer, although part of her wondered if it were safe, even with Martin there. After all, Devon was Jessica’s ex-husband and he’d shown up very conveniently this morning.
Then she realized that he was injured. He wasn’t dripping blood, but scarlet lanced across the back of his hand.
“Are you all right? Did that man get away?”
Martin nodded. “Sorry, Ms. Grant.”
“You didn’t see him when you walked Ms. Olson to her car?”
He shook his head. “He might have taken another pathway from the parking lot to the front door.”
Jared, the other security guard, then rushed into the entrance foyer. “Miss Grant, are you all right?”
“Where were you?” Martin demanded.
“I’m sorry, Miss Grant, I was doing the walk-through rounds of the labs, so I wasn’t in the security room to see that guy on the outside camera when he came in. When I got back to the room, I saw him when he ran out. Are you all right?”
“I’m fine, but Devon…” She motioned him to follow her back into the therapy area. Each room had a first aid kit. “Let me get you something for that. Why are you here?”
“You have my cell phone.”
“I do?” Then she remembered dialing 911. She’d held the phone for him as he’d tried to…save Jessica. She must have slipped it into her pocket and then blindly thrown it on her desk before Penelope’s appointment. “It’s in my office. I have a first aid kit in there, too.”
She hesitated. Was that wise, taking this man into her office? A part of her said, You’re being silly, this is Devon Knightley. But the other part of her, the part that had recoiled at the sight of Jessica Ortiz bleeding on her massage room floor, told her, He’s her ex-husband, and he came in asking for her.
Martin’s eyes flickered over hers. “Ah…I’ll do the routine walk-through of the therapy rooms right now, just in case.”
Bless him. There was no “routine walk-through” of the therapy rooms—only the labs in the secure area in back—so Martin would be within shouting distance. “Jared, could you please call the police for me?”
“No problem, Miss Grant.”
She headed to her office, where she passed him a pink napkin, from a Victorian tea shop in San José that she had visited last weekend, to use to stop his bleeding.
He seemed almost embarrassed to look up at her, but he was smiling as he dabbed his hand with the napkin. “You treat me like a normal person rather than as the official orthopedic surgeon of the Oakland Raiders. You’ve always done that.”
“Oh.” His vulnerability warmed her. She busied herself getting the first aid kit out of a cabinet. “I guess you do get your share of fawning, same as we do.”
“Because of the spa?”
“Because of Dad’s money and the spa.” Naomi pulled out some alcohol wipes, antibacterial ointment and some elastic bandages. “How badly are you cut?”
“Those bandages will be fine.” He took the alcohol wipes from her. “Men target you and your sisters?”
“Monica seems to attract handsome-but-out-of-work actors. In fact, when she started working at that hospital in San José, I think she kept secret her ties to Joy Luck Life.”
“I don’t blame her. But people seem to find out somehow.” He winced as he cleaned his cuts with an alcohol wipe.
“I don’t know how that happens. Rachel hardly gets out at all, but some biochemist found out about her and pursued her. Rachel rarely gets mad, but she lit into him like a harpy when she discovered he was trying to see her research.”
“And yourself?” He glanced up at her, pausing as he tore open an elastic bandage.
“The men I meet always seem so nice at first, but then that ‘I want something from you’ message always seems to seep out.” If only it still didn’t pierce so deep. “Dad gets the same with women.”
Devon grunted in agreement as he applied ointment to the bandage and placed it over a deep cut.
Now why had she mentioned all that? She had slipped back into their easy conversation as if the events of this morning hadn’t happened.
Except she had taken Devon’s attention more seriously than she knew she ought to. She’d sat next to him at three Zoe charity dinners, and after each dinner, she’d spent a few weeks hoping he would contact her again. And he never had. A sigh escaped her.
He looked up at her, his dark eyes turning to onyx in the light, as if he could read her thoughts. “Not all of them want something from you.”
“What?”
“Those men. They could be wanting to talk to you because you’re witty and interesting.”
She suddenly couldn’t breathe.
He didn’t look away, as if there were something in her