laid the woman on the brown leather sofa in the living room.
Maria, Rosa’s mother and also the housekeeper, entered through the doorway leading to the kitchen, carrying a damp rag and a glass of ice water.
Tate took the damp rag and laid it across the woman’s forehead, mopping away a layer of dust and sweat. “Wake up, lady,” he muttered, willing her eyes to open.
“Get her to drink,” Maria urged.
Tate lifted the woman in one arm and touched the cool glass to her lips, letting the liquid slide down her throat.
At first the liquid filled her mouth and trickled out the sides. Then she swallowed and coughed, her eyes blinking open.
“What…” she said, her voice hoarse, her gaze blurred. “Are you—” she coughed again “—Tate Vincent?”
He frowned. She knew who he was, which meant she’d found her way to his place on purpose. Was she just another gold digger out to get money from him? “Yes,” he answered, his tone clipped. “Who are you?”
Her eyes closed for a moment and then opened again. “I think you have my baby.” After delivering that punch in the gut, the woman had the audacity to pass out again.
Chapter Two
Something blessedly cool stroked across Sylvia’s forehead as she swam through the murkiness inside her head. A deep baritone hummed in the back of her mind, pulling her closer to the light. When the strokes moved to her cheek, she turned her face into the coolness and surfaced, her mind inching toward clarity. “Ummm, that feels good.”
“Glad you think so. I’d appreciate it if you’d wake up before the sheriff arrives.”
Sylvia’s eyes popped open and she stared up into intense, brown eyes, so dark they could be considered black. A man with midnight-black hair and thick dark brows drawn into a frown glared down at her.
Fear and something else shot through her veins, pushing her to a sitting position. As soon as she sat up, her head swam and her world turned fuzzy around the edges. When she would have toppled over onto the floor, strong arms circled her shoulders and eased her back to cool leather.
“Who are you?” she asked as she edged one eye open and attempted a look around. All she could see was the broad chest and intimidating glare of the incredibly sexy man in front of her. He smelled of dust, sweat and leather. Very earthy and tremendously appealing.
“We’d already established the fact that I’m Tate Vincent. You’re trespassing on my property.” The man’s countenance didn’t change, except the glare deepened until his black eyes shot sparks. “Who the hell are you?”
She sighed, draping an arm over her brow to block out her unwanted attraction to the grouchy man. “Sylvia Michaels.” As her vision cleared, so too did her memory. After a moment, she dropped her arm, her eyes widening. “You’re Tate Vincent?” She sighed. “Oh, thank God.”
“Don’t be thanking Him yet. Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t have you hauled off to jail for trespassing.”
“I’m sorry. I tried to get an appointment to see you, but your assistant wouldn’t give me one.”
“That’s why I have an assistant.” His frown deepened, his face fierce. “Now that you have my attention, what exactly do you want?”
She stared up at him, her determination wavering briefly under his angry countenance. “I’m here because there’s a good possibility that you have my child.”
For a moment he said nothing, the only sign he had heard her was the muscle ticking dangerously in his jaw. “How much do you want?”
Sylvia’s brow furrowed. “Want? What do you mean?”
“Most people who trespass or sneak onto my property want something, usually money. What’s your price?”
Anger and indignation shot into her veins, stiffening her spine and forcing her back into an upright position. This time her vision didn’t waver. “I don’t want anything from you. I only want my child.”
“And what makes you think I have him?”
Her eyes widened and a gasp whooshed from her lips. “The baby I saw outside is a boy?” Joy filled her chest. “I knew it,” she said, her happiness stealing breath from her lungs. “How is he? Where is he?” She leaned to the side to look around Tate.
Strong fingers gripped her arms, forcing her to look at him. “I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing, but I don’t have your son.”
She took a deep, steadying breath. “Did you adopt a child about six months ago?”
“Anyone who follows the gossip columns would know the answer to that.” The muscle ticked in his jaw again. “Besides, it’s none of your business.”
If she wasn’t mistaken, she’d scored a hit and she wasn’t backing off until she got answers. She stared up at him, her mouth firming into a determined line. “It is my business if that child was stolen from me.”
“You’re wrong. I met the mother of my son. She signed the papers in front of an attorney swearing the child was hers and that she was giving away all legal rights to him.”
“Was her name Beth Kirksey?”
Tate’s eyes narrowed. “And if it was?”
“She wasn’t the mother of the baby you adopted. The birth certificate was forged. She’d given up her real baby for adoption four months earlier. The baby she gave you was mine.”
“I don’t believe you.” He reached for the cell phone in his back pocket. “A quick call will confirm.”
“Don’t bother, Ms. Kirksey won’t be answering.”
“Why?”
“She’s dead.” Sylvia swallowed hard. “She was killed in a hit-and-run ‘accident’ a week ago.”
“I’m calling the sheriff.” He stood, towering above her.
If he’d intimidated her before, he terrified her now. Well over six feet tall, his massive presence and his ferocious scowl could stop an angry bull in his tracks.
But Sylvia hadn’t come this far or risked this much to give up now. “Just let me see him. Please.”
“No way. For all I know, you’re crazy and might hurt my son. You’d do well to get the hell out of my house now while I’m feeling generous enough to let you go without a police escort.”
Sylvia crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m not leaving until I see my son.”
“We’ll see about that.” He nodded to the man standing in the doorway. “C.W., call the sheriff.”
“Will do, boss.”
“Wait.” Sylvia couldn’t afford to waste time in jail. She had to
