Dangerous Proposition (3 page)

But she hadn’t come up there to enjoy the scenery. She was going to find Colin Westwood and demand he tell her where her father was. And if he refused, she was taking the evidence she’d found, along with her theory about his after-school activities, straight to the authorities.

A woman carrying a tray with champagne walked past her, and Julia snagged a glass. She helped herself to a much-needed swallow.

Drinking the bubbly liquid in hearty sips, she stared into the crowd. Doing so, it occurred to her that she had no real idea of who she was looking for. She hadn’t seen Colin Westwood in over twelve years, and there was an excellent chance he’d filled out his dimples and said good-bye to his perfect build.

Though, it was almost a guarantee he still had his baby blues. Her temperature rose slightly. This mess would probably be a lot easier to handle with a phone call.

Settling for the moment on another strategy, Julia approached a man in the crowd who seemed like the typical North Conway playboy. He was tall, and he had tousled blond hair. Wearing a white tuxedo jacket and pants, he appeared to have an unmistakable air of arrogance—exactly what made him the perfect candidate for what she was about to do.

Mischievous green eyes scanned Julia’s body from head to toe. Mr. Egotist grinned, closing in so that only a few inches of space remained between them. “That’s an interesting variation on a cocktail dress,” he said thoughtfully.

Taking a deep breath, Julia perched on her toes. “You like what you see?” she asked, hoping that this mission wasn’t going to require her to make a complete fool of herself.

Laying a hand against her shoulder, the man in white leaned in close, giving her a good whiff of the alcohol on his breath. “Very much.”

Julia shifted her eyes. Grateful that there were so many other people in their vicinity, she turned to face her target. “You’re sweet. I’ll bet a handsome guy like you must be friends with practically everyone here.”

The object of her intention shrugged. “More or less, I suppose.”

“Is that right?” She lifted her brows. “Even the legendary Colin Westwood himself?”

He smiled uncomfortably. “Not exactly.”

“That’s a shame.” Julia started forward, walking a few paces. Her source’s hand brushed against her back before she had counted to five.

“I don’t know him per se, but I’ve been introduced to him on a few occasions. My sister knows Colin Westwood pretty well, come to think of it. She’s around here somewhere. Maybe she could point him out to you. After you and I get to know each other better.”

“That would be wonderful.” Clenching her teeth, Julia managed a tight smile.

She should have suspected as much. A guy as rich as Colin Westwood probably had a whole line of bimbos frequenting his bed. Maybe he really was as handsome as he’d been when she watched him sign his name to those documents at his father’s hotel.

Without warning, her information source reached in and took hold of her hand. He gave it a slow, suggestive squeeze. “You know, the gardens are beautiful this time of year. How about a tour? I get the feeling this is your first time at the Westwood Estate.”

His probing eyes indicated all too well what he was hoping to get a viewing of.

“Sorry,” Julia said. “I promised my girlfriends I’d meet them here. They’re out front, parking the car.”

Mr. Egotist nodded. As though he’d decided on new strategy, he turned toward the crowd. His gaze wandered, settling after a moment on two men standing at the back entrance to the mansion.

Shifting her eyes, Julia observed that one of the men, the shorter of the two, had wavy brown hair and freckles. The other, whose face she couldn’t quite make out, had dark-black hair and sharp, distinguishable eyebrows. As he crossed his arms, the shorter man stepped back, almost as if he was afraid of the other. The taller man leaned over him, as though preparing to swallow him, chew him up, and spit him out in bite-sized pieces.

Julia stood dumbfounded. She realized instantly who the taller man was.

She watched with bated breath as Colin Westwood snatched hold of the arm of the man he was speaking with. They didn’t seem at all like friends—more like the man with dusty-brown waves was Colin’s minion, and Colin was his aggravated taskmaster.

Colin’s magnetic blue eyes sparkled like sapphires, but they were cold with contempt. Lustrous strands of silken charcoal hair brushed against his forehead. Dressed in a fancy collared shirt and suit, he seemed very much like a man who got what he wanted one way or the other.

Colin had been just twenty-four years old when she first saw him collecting money at his father’s hotel. That made him thirty-six today. There was a dark quality about him that hadn’t been present before. His dangerous stance indicated that he called the shots, and those in his vicinity did best to just do as he asked.

“That’s him,” the man in white said, suddenly behind her. “That’s Colin Westwood. I’m sure of it.”

Julia nodded. Everything made sense. Her father’s overturned office. The phone, the caller ID. Colin Westwood had grown from a silver-spoon-fed, devastatingly handsome young man into an even more handsome older man, and a criminal. And her father had gotten in his way.

She watched as the duo slipped inside the house—Colin’s minion going first, then Colin. She took a couple of breaths then turned to her self-appointed tour guide. With a smile on her lips, a plan formed in her mind. “Gosh, I’m thirsty all of a sudden. Would you mind getting me a drink?”

Mr. Egotist grinned, settling his hand against the small of her back. “Not at all,” he said and disappeared into the crowd.

Slipping her hand into her pocket to be sure her father’s cell phone was still there, Julia held her breath. Without looking back, she made a dash toward the double glass doors.

When she stood on the other side of them, she looked around and blinked several times. She had entered a very large space, which was apparently cold from the mansion’s air conditioning. The enormous room had a pool table in its center. There were sofas on opposite sides of the floor, long white ones, decked out with exorbitant amounts of pillows. Gigantic mahogany bookshelves lined the surrounding walls.

Using her hands to navigate, Julia walked slowly forward. Her shin banged hard against something cold and ceramic.

Clasping her throbbing leg, she covered her mouth, struggling not to cry out in pain. Her leg hurt like hell, and she was going to have a heck of a bruise come the morning. Biting her lip, she did her best to will the stinging sensation to subside.

Spotting a door, she set her left foot against the ground. She made her way toward it, watching out for any objects that might be looming in front of her.

Her eyes adjusted to the lighting as she entered the next room. It was smaller than the other and almost entirely free of furniture. A streak of light reflected against the surface of a marble-topped table, the only piece of décor in sight. Behind it, a staircase with golden banisters painted an arrow to the second floor.

Without taking too much time to consider whether it was totally inappropriate to go up to the second floor, Julia dashed across the carpet. She’d only made it a few feet when the sound of footsteps stopped her in her tracks.

Heart thudding against her ribcage, she ducked, coming as low to the ground as she could. She pressed her face against the floor as the lights were flicked on. A shapely older woman wearing a black dress and apron stepped into the doorway.

“What are you doing?” the woman, obviously the maid, asked. Her voice was high-pitched and heavy with accusation.

“I was looking for…” Julia sprang to her feet.
The indoor pool…the bathroom…
“Colin,” she said decisively.

“Oh.” The maid blushed then smiled. “Third door on the right.”

“Um…thanks.”

Julia turned, mouth falling agape. She’d had a hunch her response would justify her being there. But she could hardly believe how easily the maid had let her go.

Thankfully, the second floor hallway was wide, and it gave her plenty of room to walk around. Grateful the stairs were behind her, she moved quickly, doing her best to keep from making too much noise. A single light shined from behind one of several closed doors.

Julia hesitated. This was it, the moment of confrontation she’d been waiting for. But somehow it was that much more frightening, knowing how close she was to carrying out her plan. Assuring herself she was acting ridiculous, she took a deep breath and opened the door.

Upon entering the lit room, she found it empty. The king-sized bed positioned against the wall opposite her was covered in a large royal-blue comforter. The bed was perfectly made, and the armoire beside it was shut. Curious as to what else there was to see, she walked to the adjoining door. She opened it, discovering an enormous couch and a coffee table.

Shutting the door behind her, Julia shook her head. Clearly no one was up there, and she’d just as well leave. Much as she was enjoying her tour of the royal living quarters, this break-in was entirely pointless. Colin had probably sent the waiter he was yelling at for more alcohol then jumped into the hot tub with the lot of bimbos outside.

She started for the door. Walking toward it, she swore she heard footsteps. She perked up her ears, catching the sound of two distinct male voices. She watched with a pounding pulse as the knob was turned from the other side.

Charging to the foot of the bed, Julia lifted the ends of the comforter. In one swift motion, she tossed it into the air and pulled herself underneath.

Pressing her body down, she held her breath. Instantly she grew hot, and her vision became about as good as it might have been on a rainy night in the woods. She could barely breathe, and the hefty down comforter on top of her was causing her to sweat profusely.

Two sets of footsteps sounded against the floor. The door to the room was shut from the inside.

“Tonight? How in God’s name do you expect me to take care of this tonight?” a man, who sounded even more afraid than she was, asked.

A deep-toned reply ignited goose bumps along her arms. “That’s your problem. Not mine.”

Heart pounding so hard she could feel it in her throat, Julia shifted her body. She urged herself to sink as low into the mattress as possible.

“I can’t possibly—I’m not sure you understand—”

A harsh reply came like crackling thunder. “What I understand is that if you don’t rectify this situation within twenty-four hours, there’s going to be a serious change to the status of your employment. Understand
that
?”

Silence followed.

“Yeah.” The owner of the softer voice seemed to swallow. “Sure, boss.”

“Yeah,
what
?”

“Yeah, I understand you!”

“For your sake, you had better mean it,” the man, whom Julia was certain had to be Colin Westwood, growled.

The knob jangled, and the door to the room was opened.

Colin, presumably, spoke in a hushed voice. “Keep this to yourself. I want no one to know that Dyson is missing.”

Julia gasped, forgetting to put a hand over her open mouth. She’d been completely right in coming there. Colin Westwood had kidnapped her father!

She had been doing all she could to convince herself that this wasn’t happening. That Colin might be a criminal, but that he couldn’t possibly be responsible for her father’s disappearance. She was going to be sick. And then she was going straight to the cops, getting a SWAT team to raid that mansion, and dragging Colin Westwood out of there on his billion-dollar ass!

Sliding forward so she could breathe a little, Julia urged her forehead against the cool air. Colin, who seemed almost as anxious as she was, was standing in the doorframe.

She should have ducked, but a mix of fascination and fury kept her in place as he shut the door, enclosing the two of them inside the room. Watching him take off his jacket, Julia almost forgot she wasn’t invisible. He seemed deeply troubled, as though he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.

Taking something from the dresser, an object she couldn’t quite make out, Colin clenched his hand into a fist. Failing to flick the light switch, he sat on the sofa and rubbed his tired-looking eyes.

Colin stared at the object in his hand. He remained that way for several moments, deep-blue irises lost in the contents of his hands. Slipping whatever it was he held into his pocket, he closed his eyes again and leaned forward, massaging his temples.

He seemed so strong and confident, even in spite of how stressed out he appeared to be. Watching him, Julia found herself imagining how his arms would feel around her body. Wondering whether his large, shapely hands had murdered her father, she stared at them. That was, until Colin turned in the direction of the bed.

Heart slamming hard against her rib cage, Julia ducked beneath the covers. Footsteps thundered toward her with a quick stride.

“Who sent you here?” As though it weighed no more than a feather, Colin tore the cover from the bed. “Damn it, woman, answer my question!”

Julia was paralyzed. She wanted to move but couldn’t. She shifted sideways, nearly sliding off the bed. But before she could get one foot on the ground, Colin dove on top of her, locking her between his legs.

Arms that felt like steel pillars held her in place. She fought to move as her wrists were pinned against the mattress.

“No one sent me,” she exclaimed, fighting with all of her might to break free of his hold. “I sent myself!”

“You sent yourself,” he repeated in a mocking tone, as though it wasn’t possible.

She narrowed her gazed. “Yes.”

“You came here on your own?” he persisted. “There’s no one you’re protecting?”

Julia pried one tender wrist free. “Guess you’d better double-check your memorandum of enemies. Last time I checked, I’m on no one’s payroll.”

“You’re lying.”

“Think so?” She smiled cleverly. “You must really have an onslaught of nemeses if you think a woman who can barely balance her checkbook is trying to shake you down.”