The elevator dumped her on the second floor into one long corridor. No reception area. She followed the hallway midway down until she came to a door. BLACK ARTS was etched in the frosted glass, along with by appointment only.

Did she knock? Or walk in? Was the door locked?

After thirty seconds of indecision, Amery knocked rapidly four times and opened the door. “Sensei Black?” she said loudly as she stepped into an empty waiting area.

The big blond instructor exited from a door halfway down the hall. He beckoned her closer. “We’re in here, Ms. Hardwick.”

Amery plastered on a smile. Her heels clicked loudly on the tile floors and she wished she’d worn different shoes.

He bowed slightly and offered his hand. “I’m Knox Lofgren. We met briefly the night you signed up for the self-defense class.”

“I’m hoping you won’t hold my behavior that night against me, Shihan.”

“No. But you did manage to get under Sensei’s skin, which is as rare as it is amusing.” He pushed open the door. “Come in and get settled. Ronin is on a conference call and he’ll be in shortly. Would you care for coffee? Tea? A soda?”

“I’m good, thank you.” They’d entered a large meeting room lined with windows and a U-shaped conference table in the center. Another guy stood when she came in.

He looked . . . mean. Bald head. Tattoos decorating his arm from wrists to elbows. Tattoos peeking out from the V in his T-shirt. His eyes were the lightest blue—almost translucent. He wasn’t tall—not as big as Ronin and definitely not as big as Knox—but he was built like a cement block. Solid. Probably solid muscle. She guessed he was somewhere around her age.

“Ms. Hardwick, this is Deacon McConnell.”

Deacon also offered her a slight bow before extending his hand. “Ms. Hardwick, it is a pleasure.”

Oh, wow, he had a honey-thick Southern drawl that softened his I’m-a-badass vibe. She smiled at him. “Please, both of you, call me Amery. And I have to ask, what is your official title, Deacon?”

“Yondan. Fourth-degree black belt.”

“Technically my official title is Godan, which is fifth degree black belt,” Knox said. “Students call me Shihan as a sign of respect since I’m the second-highest belt rank in the dojo.”

She pointed to the screen on the wall. “I hope you’re not expecting a PowerPoint presentation?”

“To be honest, we weren’t sure what to expect.”

“So neither of you knows why I’m here?”

They shook their heads.

“Sensei Black approached me last week about creating a new logo for the dojo. He indicated he’s needed to do that for some time.”

Knox grinned. “Hot damn. I’m happy to hear that.”

Deacon nodded.

“Bear in mind I have limited ideas because I am waiting for more input.”

“Which they’ll be happy to provide,” Ronin said behind her.

She jumped and whirled around. “You have got to stop doing that to me, Master Black.”

“Ronin,” he murmured.

“But we’re in the dojo, aren’t we?” she murmured back.

“Technically? No. So relax.”

Knox and Deacon seemed to be watching them very closely.

“I see you’ve met Knox, my second–in-command, for lack of a better term. And Deacon, my third-in-command.”

Amery seized the chance to learn more about Ronin. She looked at Knox. “How long have you been associated with Black Arts, Shihan?”

“Since I was discharged from the service five years ago.”

“And you, Yondan?”

“Three years.”

From what she’d read about dojos and the student’s loyalty to train with one master for years, and sometimes decades, she’d expected both of these men to have been with Sensei longer.

“While we’re informal, please call us by our first names,” Knox said.

Ronin pulled out a chair for her. Then he parked himself right beside her.

Damn hard not to get flustered. Especially since the man wasn’t giving her any space. He was dressed like Knox and Deacon in a white T-shirt and white gi pants. None of them wore shoes. What had they been doing before she showed up? Working out? Sparring? Rolling around on the mats beating on each other? Why did that image make her heart pound?

“Problem?” Ronin prompted.

Her cheeks flamed. Stupid lily-white skin. She fake-coughed. “I might need some water after all.”

Amery expected Ronin to appoint either of these guys to get her a drink. But he grabbed a bottle of water from the minibar fridge and handed it to her.

She really wanted to roll the plastic bottle over her hot face, but she uncapped it and drank. Then she smiled. “You guys will want to come down here because my ideas are on the computer.”

Knox and Deacon crowded behind her. At some point Ronin had draped his arm over the back of her chair. Now he was so close she could smell his scent: sweat and laundry soap. She could feel the heat of his thigh muscle pressing against the outside of her leg. Then his fingers would absentmindedly drift across her shoulder.

The man had thrown her completely off her game.

Take control. You don’t want to look incompetent.

“I’ll run through it once as a slide show and then we can stop on individual images to see if anything pops out at you.”

She wasn’t expecting them to chatter, but their absolute silence unnerved her.