O'Brien's Lady

by Marsha Doss

  Sonny kicked off her shoes, hung her jacket on the back of the kitchen chair, and poured herself a cup of hot coffee. As she sank into the comfortable captain's chair, she began leafing through the mail.

  Most of them contained invoices for feed, or bedding for the animals. One was from their veterinarian and the envelope that caught her eyes was from Crescent Stables in Kentucky.

  Sonny's interest was piqued and she tore into the flap of the envelope. She didn't recall doing business with them, so what could it be? Her eyes scanned the figures on the printed form, and then her mouth flew open.

  Holding the paper in front of her, Sonny quickly dialed the number in Kentucky. Her heart raced as she heard the staccato rhythm of the ringing at the other end of the line. Her breath quickened when a high-pitched voice answered.

  "Is this George Crescent?" she asked politely.

  "Yes ma'am, what can I do for you?"

  "This is Sondra Mead of Pinebrook Farm in California."

  "Nice to meet you Miss Mead."

  Sonny tried to disguise her impatience. "Thank you. I'm calling about your invoice number 20893. It shows that you sold a horse to us for a sizable amount of money."

  The voice at the other end sparked with sudden

  recognition. "Yes. Bright Promise."

  "Bright Promise?" Sonny questioned.

  "A real buy. That filly can run."

  "I'm sure he can Mr. Crescent. But tell me, did a young man talk with you about this transaction?"

  "Nice young man. Met him two weeks ago at the auction. He made the deal."

  Sonny's heart had started to trace patterns in her breast as it flipped from side to side.

  "Thank you. I was just checking with you on this." Sonny hoped her explanation would suffice.

  "All right. Good day, ma'am."

  Sonny slammed the receiver down and then picked it up again. Her fingers began dialing and then she changed her mind.

  "I'll see to this one in person," she said out loud.

  With the invoice clutched in her hand, she hurried down to the stables. The rocks and uneven terrain of the path made it difficult to walk, and her ankle turned under her. She swore under her breath, and kept going. It was time she put Michael O'Brien in his proper place.

  Michael glanced up and saw Sonny coming down the hill, and he couldn't stop staring. As out of place as she looked in her tailored suit and black patent heels, Sonny was an extraordinarily beautiful woman.

  "What's this?" she shouted as she waved the paper that was clutched in her hand.

  "Don't know. Can't see it from here."

  Sonny thrust the invoice at him, and watched his reaction.

  "So? What's the problem?" Michael asked after looking at the paper.

  "Don't be coy. Why did you buy this horse without my permission?" She was distressed by his aloof manner.

  "Since when do I need your permission, Sonny?"

  "We're partners. Or have you forgotten that Michael?"

  "How can I, when you won't let me? I bought that horse because she can run and she'll be used for breeding later on."

  Sonny could not believe Michael's arrogance and assumption that he could spend the farm's money on any horse he thought might win a few races. She had thought him to be a little more professional than this, and his blatant flagrancy surprised her.

  "We have enough horses in case you haven't noticed. "

  "That shows how little you know about the business. Why don't you leave these decisions to me from now on?" Michael's smile was meant to be reassuring, but it only insited more anger in Sonny.

  She had known from the start that Michael wanted Pinebrook and this action was just proving her correct. For all she knew he could be purchasing Thoroughbreds that he would insist on keeping for himself at the end of the six months.

  "I know all about this place I care to know, and this ridiculous price proves you can't make level-headed decisions, Michael."

  As Sonny's nose tipped upward, Michael's mouth became firm with the anger he felt. "Your father always found good runners at auctions. That's what keeps this place alive. Bright Promise is a strong filly and she'll be ready in three or four weeks."

  "So, you have single-handedly appointed yourself as the head of Pinebrook." Her blue eyes were ablaze with color and her cheeks were beginning to feel warm. There was something in Michael that aroused her temper.

  "Someone has to do the job and you're not qualified."

  How dare he call her unqualified, when this property was rightfully hers. Even though she had spent very little time on the farm Sonny felt as able as Michael to make decisions. Especially those concerning their bank account.

  "I am the farm's only hope for the future, " Michael cut in tersely. "If I left the decisions up to you, we'd be out of business before the six months was over."

  "How do you know what I would have done?" Sonny's blue eyes challenged him.

  "It's not hard to figure it out. You can't stand working with your hands. You'd rather be mingling with high society." Michael said the word with thick sarcasm, making it sound almost evil.

  "And what's wrong with that? I happen to enjoy wearing fine clothes and going to nice places."

  "You also like bringing a new life into the world and watching it grow into something truly wonderful." Michael's face had softened and Sonny could not bear to see the expression in his dark eyes. It sent a cold shiver down her spine and she turned away from his probing gaze. He had definitely hit a sore spot. Yes, she had been enchanted with the foaling of Midnight, but that did not alter the face that she didn't belong here. Why did Michael always probe into her mind? Couldn't he just accept the fact that their lives were different and they could never continue this ridiculous partnership?

  "Anyone would have reacted to that foaling, Michael. That doesn't mean that I want to stay here for the rest of my life."

  Sonny turned away, and did not see the pained look that crossed his face.

  When she turned back, she saw only his hardened expression.

  "What are we going to do about the purchase of this horse?" Sonny asked suddenly.

  "We've made the transaction and she'll be flown out here the end of this week."

  "Oh I see..you've made the decision and you assume I'll abide by it."

  "You have no choice. We need that horse."

  Sonny felt the irritation grow with Michael's stubbornness on this matter. If she had spent that much money without his consent, she was sure his reaction would not be favorable. Underneath it all, he was a very stubborn, steadfast man and nothing she could say or do would change his mind.

  If she telephoned Crescent Stables to cancel, then hers and Michael's credibility would be questioned. Decisions like this were never taken lightly and right or wrong, she was certain Michael had given the matter great thought. He had mentioned her father's frequent purchasing of new stock and she certainly trusted J.B.'s business judgement. For now, she was in a precarious position where she could neither go forward nor retreat.

  "I do have a choice Michael," she countered. "But I'll assume you know what you're doing. In the future, however all money matter must have my approval."

  Michael's mouth turned up at the corners, and the hard line was replaced with an expanse of incredibly straight, white teeth. Just one more thing to make him attractive, she thought resentfully.

  "You enjoy showing your power, Sonny, and I find it amusing."

  Before Sonny could open her mouth to protest, Michael had the wide lapels of her jacket held securely between his fingers. She wanted to move away, to protest…to run, but his nearness made that impossible. Maybe if she didn't look into his eyes that would help fend off this virile man who stood before her.

  "You're beautiful," Michael said.

  Those two words held more feeling than Sonny could have imagined possible. Now she was trapped, and suddenly her knack for glib conversation was gone. She could not think of one coherent thing to say to this handsome Irish
man who made her head spin and her heart dance.

  If she didn't get away soon, he would know that his silly game was working and the mouse could be caught, oh so easily.

  CHAPTER 7

  Sonny picked the telephone up on the fifth ring. She had hurried in the back door and was now slightly out of breath.

  The silky voice at the other end took her by surprise.

  "Pierre," she exclaimed, "where are you?"

  "I am leaving New York this evening. The show was a huge success."

  The voice, gilded with a French accent was like a tranquilizer to Sonny. She sat on the kitchen chair and listened to the charismatic sounds of Pierre.

  "That's wonderful. And how long will you be in the city?"

  "About a week I would imagine. I will call you after the showing tomorrow. You will come won't you?"

  No, she thought, I can't come. My hair is damaged, my nails short and split. She had a hundred things to do before he saw her again. "I'd love to come Pierre, but I have so much work here. Will you forgive me?"

  "Of course. Until tomorrow, then." Pierre's voice was smooth and his words well enunciated. Not at all like Michael's. The two men were such opposites, yet each was an integral and important part of her life.

  Before going to bed that night, Sonny made a list of all the things she would have to do the next day. At the top of the page was the hairdresser. She must have her hair conditioned and the ends that were split from pulling with rubber bands would have to be trimmed. While she was there her would could be repaired.

  If Pierre saw her in this condition he would be horrified. As she glanced into the mirror, Sonny was surprised that she could have let herself get this way. Life here was so different, so full of heavy-duty chores that it had been relatively easy to fall into this slump. The horses always needed attention, and one thing she had learned over the past three months was how dependent the animals were on their owners.

  To Sonny, Midnight was like a child who needed care and attention and love. And she wanted to be the one to give it freely without reservations or regrets. There was so much to show Pierre, that Sonny tingled with anticipation at his reaction to the handsome colt who was so much like his mother.

  As Sonny closed her eyes that night she wondered what Pierre would think of Pinebrook and Midnight and all the wonderful photographs she had taken. She hoped he would be as pleased with them as she had been.

  The Hair Palace, just a few miles from the farm, was already a hub of activity by the time Sonny arrived for her nine o'clock appointment. The young woman seated behind the receptionist desk had her head bent, exposing dark areas showing through the platinum blond hair so reminiscent of another era. She finished making her entry in the appointment book, then looked up.

  "Sonny!" The large brown eyes looked back from beneath thick lashes and the perfectly shaped lips spread into a smile. Carol Ann Layne was, in spite of her over-precessed hair, still quite beautiful.

  "I didn't know you worked here, Carol Ann."

  Sonny was surprised to see the blond who had once spent many weekends around Pinebrook.

  "I switched from my business major to

  cosmetology, even though it meant an extra two years in school." Carol Ann smiled as she spoke.

  "It's nice to see you again." Sonny was groping for words that wouldn't come. Yes, she remembered Carol Ann. How could she forget? She had been Michael's almost constant companion the summer she left for Paris. Sonny's mind bristled at the memory and a strange feeling swept over her.

  "Michael said you had come back." Carol Ann dropped the words at Sonny's feet as she led her over to the nearest shampoo area.

  "Oh, do you and Michael still see each other?" Sonny hoped her voice sounded casual, but even to her own ear she picked up on the high-pitched sound of each word. Carol Ann began spraying Sonny's hair with warm water.

  "Whenever I choose to, we do."

  Sonny's face felt warm and she moved uneasily as the water temperature suddenly rose.

  "Sorry," Carol Ann said. "Getting too hot for you?"

  Sonny opened her eyes and found that the satisfied expression on Carol Ann's face made her much more uncomfortable than the water temperature.

  "Never," Sonny responded.

  Carol Ann finished the shampoo and rinse and then escorted Sonny to her station. She gently cranked up the salon chair, then pulled the towel from Sonny's head.

  "My, you have been neglecting your hair," she said as she combed through the tangled, limp strands. "How about a cut?"

  Sonny had wanted a trim, but with the look in Carol Ann's eyes, she decided that would have to wait until another time. The two of them had never been exactly friends, and she was not about to trust her with a pair of scissors.

  "No, I just wanted to have it conditioned."

  "Well, you're the boss." Carol Ann combed meticulously through the wet strands, and then began drying with the blow dryer held expertly in her hands.

  "You really should have a manicure too, Sonny. Whatever have you been doing with those hands?" She smiled into the mirror and Sonny folded her fingers under self consciously.

  "Michael and I have been really busy. We're training a new colt named…"

  "Midnight. Yes, I know. Michael wants me to come see him soon. He says he'll be a champion."

  Sonny bristled. It was none of her business who Michael chose to spend his off hours with, but Carol Ann Layne was certainly not the kind of woman for him. She was as artificial as her smile.

  Granted, she had a nice figure and enough basic intelligence to get her through a normal conversation, but she would never get her hands dirty. And somehow, Sonny couldn't imagine Michael getting deeply involved with any woman who couldn't pitch in for a hard day's work.

  At least Sonny had one hold over Carol Ann.

  She had been with Michael the night Graceful Lady foaled and she had helped. Midnight was a part of her and Carol Ann hadn't even seen him yet. Sonny couldn't picture her working in a stable, ever.Carole Ann reached for the curling iron, and began tucking Sonny's hair under at the ends.

  "I just love horses, Sonny. And now that Michael owns Pinebrook…"

  "Half of Pinebrook," Sonny corrected.

  "Well, half or all makes no difference to me.

  As I was saying, the thought of owning a farm is just too much to hope for."

  Carol Ann dropped her dark lashes, which Sonny was certain were fake. She had made her implication very clear and now Sonny would have to think of something clever to say. But her mind was suddenly blank.

  "Maybe you'll make enough money someday to buy yourself a horse," Sonny answered sweetly. "If not, you're always welcome to come by and look at ours." She hoped she had caught the emphasis on the word "ours", and when she saw the look in Carol Ann's eyes, she was confident she had.

  Sonny paid for the shampoo and left without the manicure. She didn't want to stay a minute longer and listen to her needling. Not that it bothered her, she just didn't like Carol Ann. She was obviously out to get Michael now that he had inherited property. That

  would not happen, because Sonny would not return to France until her end of the agreement had been settled and she was sole owner of the property. Forcing Michael to sell his interest to her would be difficult, but she was ready for the challenge. Just three more months to go.

  Returning home, Sonny shivered at the thought of Carol Ann inhabiting the farm, perhaps even her

  house. What she hated most was the painful thought of her sharing Michael's life. Stop it, she told herself. Michael had a right to outside interests, just as she did.

  Pierre. Yes, Pierre would be here soon and that would make everything right. She would focus her attention on him and get Michael out of her mind.

  Sonny was sure that a visit from the charming Frenchman would take her mind away from Michael O'Brien.

  One roll of film was left to be processed and Sonny clipped her hair back from her face and slipped the over-sized butcher's a
pron over her brown tweed pants and white blouse. She always approached each developing session with a great sense of excitement and anticipation. Would her processed pictures capture what she had seen in the lens or would some last minute movement altar some feature?

  Pierre had always appreciated fine photography, and he would be as excited as she was with the results she had so masterfully achieved. Her studies were, as Katy had so eloquently stated, like great paintings.

  Sonny wasn't quite sure how she had managed to create that sense of magic, but it was there. The wonderful evolvement of the foal as it learns to move about and gallop at its mother's side was all on film. The gentle nudging of Graceful Lady and the adoration with which Midnight followed her every move were all in the photographs.

  Sometimes, when they had to separate the two, Sonny was able to capture the expression of hurt and longing in the dark eyes of both Lady and Midnight. Those were among her favorites.

  Sonny worked until the final picture was hung to dry. She smiled at the results, which were even more phenomenal than the last. As she began to empty the trays of solution, she heard a knock at the thin door.

  "Can I come in?" Michael's deep voice startled her.

  "Yes."

  His large frame seemed to fill the small room as he edged in behind her. The light blue shirt hugged his broad chest and a wisp of dark hair curled up toward his neck. Sonny continued to clean the trays in the small sink. When she moved back to the counter, Michael's body was pressed against hers in the tiny space available.

  "Hey, these are great."

  "You like them?" Sonny looked up into his face and she watched the smile that worked its way across his broad jawline, slowly touching his lips.

  She knew the pictures were good, but she was happy to have his approval, something she rarely needed from anyone when she had confidence in her own work.

  "I like you." Michael's hands were on her shoulders and Sonny fought the urge to lean against the warmth of his chest, where she knew the hard rhythm of his heart would beat against her back.

  She felt the slow sensuous movement of his fingers as they moved down her arms, stroking her with the lightness of a breeze, filling her with a storm of unbridled emotion.