Formula for Danger. Camy Tang

      “Rachel, earlier tonight, someone broke into greenhouse four.”

      “Greenhouse four? My greenhouse?” Technically, it was his greenhouse, but the only things in it were her Malaysian basil plants. “Were you there? Are you okay?”

      Edward paused, and his searching gaze made her stomach flip. “I’m fine. I wasn’t there when it happened. I left my cell phone in greenhouse six, so I went to get it. I noticed movement in the yard, and when I went to check the greenhouses, I found yours unlocked. Someone trashed all your plants.”

      She gasped. She needed Edward to cultivate a certain number of plants so she could make the extract for her scar reduction cream, scheduled to launch in only five months. She couldn’t be late. The spa depended on her new product launch. “Why didn’t the alarm go off? I thought the greenhouses all had security alarms in place.”

      “They do,” Edward said. “But the system in greenhouse four didn’t go off. I checked it, and it looks like the thief tampered with it. Whoever did this was a professional, not your average thief. The thief entered only greenhouse four, Rachel—the thief was only after your plants.”

      CAMY TANG

      writes romance with a kick of wasabi. Originally from Hawaii, she worked as a biologist for nine years, but now she writes full-time. She is a staff worker for her San Jose church youth group and leads a worship team for Sunday service. She also runs the Story Sensei fiction critique service, which specializes in book doctoring. On her blog, she gives away Christian novels every Monday and Thursday, and she ponders frivolous things like dumb dogs (namely, hers), coffee-geek husbands (no resemblance to her own…), the writing journey, Asiana and anything else that comes to mind. Visit her Web site at www.camytang.com.

      Formula for Danger

      Camy Tang

      

www.millsandboon.co.uk

      The earth is the Lord’s, and everything in it, the world, and all who live in it.

      —Psalms 24:1

      To Danica and Cheryl. I thought I could never find two people as sick and twisted as myself, but I have in you two. Thanks for being my friends.

      CONTENTS

      CHAPTER ONE

      CHAPTER TWO

      CHAPTER THREE

      CHAPTER FOUR

      CHAPTER FIVE

      CHAPTER SIX

      CHAPTER SEVEN

      CHAPTER EIGHT

      CHAPTER NINE

      CHAPTER TEN

      CHAPTER ELEVEN

      CHAPTER TWELVE

      CHAPTER THIRTEEN

      CHAPTER FOURTEEN

      CHAPTER FIFTEEN

      CHAPTER SIXTEEN

      CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

      CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

      CHAPTER NINETEEN

      CHAPTER TWENTY

      LETTER TO READER

      QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION

      ONE

      Dr. Rachel Grant had walked only a few feet out the back door of her family’s Sonoma day spa, Joy Luck Life, when the patter of running footsteps behind her made her turn.

      She had only a glimpse of a dark hoodie and a tall, lanky figure before a shove sent her sprawling onto the sidewalk. Thwack! Her left cheekbone collided with the cement, sending pain lancing through her head.

      Snow clouded her vision and she struggled to open her eyes. Her heart pounded in her throat, making it hard for her to breathe. Frantic, she opened her mouth wide but no sound came out.

      She glanced up. The backsides of dirty sneakers filled her field of view as they trotted away from her. Then a hand scooped up the bag strap of her sister Naomi’s laptop computer, which had flown from Rachel’s grip to land on the edge of the pool of light from the parking lot streetlamp. The sneakers hustled away.

      Breathe! Rachel forced her wooden lungs to fill and tried to scream, but only a harsh croak came out. Where were the security guards? They should have seen the attack thanks to the outside video cameras. How long would it take for them to run out here?

      Even worse, Naomi would be devastated to lose that laptop, which she’d bought barely five hours ago.

      She heard the creak of the spa’s back door, then more footsteps. “Rachel! Rach, are you okay?” Naomi fell to her knees beside her, hands on Rachel’s shoulders. “I was talking to Martin, and we saw it all on the security camera.” Martin, one of the security guards, raced past them, pursuing the stranger and the laptop.

      In the distance, a woman’s voice screeched, “What are you doing? Don’t leave me!” It sounded as if it had come from the front of the spa.

      Who was that? What was going on?

      Rachel pushed herself up, her cheekbone throbbing as she rose. She squeezed her eyes shut to the wave of pain and paused on her knees, her head bowed.

      Naomi put her arm around her. “Where are you hurt?”

      “Just my cheek.”

      Naomi pulled Rachel’s hair away from her face to look at her. Rachel had a hard time opening her eyes again as the pain splashed across her forehead, trickling back inside her skull. “How bad is it?”

      “You’ll have a black eye, that’s for sure. We need to get you to the hospital.”

      “No, I’ll have Monica look at it first. If the family nurse says so, then I’ll go to the hospital.” Just the thought of all the people in a crowded emergency room made Rachel cringe. She only wanted a quiet place to lie down and recover. “I’m sorry about your laptop.”

      “Forget the laptop, I’m worried about you.”

      “I only took a fall, nothing worse. But that laptop was new—”

      “I can buy a new one. Besides, I’m almost glad it was new because it didn’t have anything on it, so the spa didn’t lose any sensitive information. That would have been worse.” Especially since Naomi still managed the spa while their father recovered from his stroke. Naomi had bought the computer to help her with the spa’s accounting.

      “We should call the police and report it stolen.”

      “We should call Dad and Aunt Becca first.” Naomi dug her cell phone out of her pocket.

      “Call Aunt Becca. Aren’t she and Detective Carter out to dinner tonight?” The two of them were dating again after an argument that had kept them apart for a few months. It was almost 10:00 p.m., but they might still be together at a movie.

      As Naomi talked to Aunt Becca—who indeed was with Detective Horatio Carter—Rachel managed to sit up, although the evening sky spun around her. She clutched her hands together, trying to stop their shaking. She’d been attacked in the spa parking lot!

      Clicking heels made Rachel look up. Gloria Reynolds, one of Naomi’s massage clients, tripped toward them. “Dr. Grant, are you all right? Did that man hurt you?”

      “Ms. Reynolds, you’re still here?” Not the most tactful thing to say, but her headache was making it hard for her to be polite.

      “Ms. Reynolds was my last client for tonight,” Naomi told Rachel as she ended her call with Aunt Becca.