O'Brien's Lady - By Marsha Doss Page 0,24

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 apron 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