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When did the madness stop? Did she need something to literally hit her over the head?
    “When were you planning on telling me this?” Abigail exclaimed. “It’s incredible! I’ll bet practically every woman in North Conway wishes she were in your shoes this morning. Don’t tell Ryan this, but I sort of had a thing for Colin Westwood myself when I was younger. He’s gorgeous, Julia, powerful and rich. You should go for it. If I were you, that’s exactly what I’d do.”
    Had Abigail completely forgotten why she’d sought the guy out in the first place? Colin Westwood was a criminal. He was probably responsible for her father’s disappearance, and maybe even his murder. Falling for the enemy would be the most surefire way to lose the war.
    “Yeah, and I’m sure he wouldn’t mind me dropping the charges I’m going to press against him, either. Look, the guy is a death trap waiting to happen. Keeping him in the picture is only going to slow down my dad’s investigation. That’s my number one priority. Not some wannabe Abercrombie and Fitch model.”
    To Julia’s relief, the doorbell was ringing. She looked up, spotting the top of a head through the window above the door.
    With a sinking feeling, she stood on the couch and put one foot on the cushion. Placing the other beside it, she got up slowly, not quite unbending her knees.
    Devious blue eyes examined her from the window. Looming beneath a set of shifty black eyebrows, they offered a look of amusement and intrigue.
    She dropped the phone then scrambled to pick it up again. “Hang on, Abby. There’s someone at my door.”
    Julia hung up. She raced to the door, opening it a crack. Colin Westwood was standing outside her house!
    “Aren’t you going to let me in?” he asked, extending a smile that should have gotten him arrested.
    “That depends.” She grinned, wedging his black leather shoe between the door and the frame. Locking the chain into place, she said, “Are you peddling bathroom tiles this morning, or did you come back for another kick in the nuts? Sorry to disappoint you, Dr. Westwood, but I’m not in the habit of inviting strange men into my home.”
    “Yet you think nothing of breaking into their homes and sneaking into their beds in the middle of the night.”
    Her face grew slick with heat. “It isn’t what you think.”
    “Oh? And what is it I think, Ms. Dyson?”
    Julia stiffened her lip, determined not to show him how rattled she was at the realization that he’d somehow learned her name. Lifting her chin, she said, “You think I’m some sort of underground spy, working for a higher-up, who’s trying to take a piece of whatever criminal operation it is you’re working for.” Noting the unmistakable twitch of his brow, she said, “I’m not a spy. I only want to know what you’ve done with my father.”
    Colin was silent a long moment. When he did respond, his voice was low, and there was a hint of sadness in his voice. “You think I’m responsible for Tucker’s disappearance?”
    He knew her father had “disappeared.” She fought the urge to be sick. “You were the last person who spoke to him before he was taken from his office.”
    Colin nodded, prying his foot from between the door and the frame. “Since you obviously think you know a few things about what goes on in this town, I’m sure you’re well aware that as a physician, my job requires me to keep in contact with a lot of patients, particularly those who use prescription drugs. You must know that your father takes Coreg CR.”
    “Yes,” Julia said, very grateful she’d done her homework last night before hitting the sack. “But I also know that he goes to a private practitioner for his checkups, and that his regular physician is Dr. Marissa Sinclair.”
    Colin’s roguish face grew pale. He stepped back, shoving his hands into his pants pockets.
    As she watched him, Julia’s heart sank in her chest. She’d told Abigail that she could care less about