O'Brien's Lady - By Marsha Doss Page 0,27

up at the house."

Sonny stood under the pulsating water of the shower, allowing the warmth to ease her tired muscles. Working with Midnight was proving to be strenuous work and her shoulders felt sore to the touch. Her hair, which had become tangled, now had to be washed again. Pity that she had spent her money to have it done that morning.

Feeling refreshed after the shower, Sonny slipped into a red jersey dress with a pleated skirt. She fastened the fabric belt and then pushed up the sleeves to just above her elbows. The rounded neckline accentuated her slender neck and she fastened a single strand of pearls and stepped into her black heels.

Sonny allowed her hair to fall over her shoulders. She had inherited her mother's naturally wavy hair, so styling was quite simple. She was grateful for that. But, her complexion came from her father who had dark hair and bronzed skin. She tanned easily and did not have the fairness of a natural blond. Now, as she applied lip gloss, she needed very little else. Her constant exposure to the sun had left her rosy-cheeked and healthy looking.

Michael greeted Sonny at the door with a low whistle of approval. She smiled appreciatively and found herself loving the way his eyes scanned the length of her body, beginning at her toes and ending with her face.

"You should wear red more often," he said as his arm went around her shoulders.

Sonny was trying not to stare, but Michael looked magnificently handsome in a white shirt, open at the throat. Grey trousers hugged his long legs and a navy blue blazer framed his broad shoulders and slender waist.

Her photographer's eye suddenly pictured Michael in a jungle scene, with his khaki shirt and pants and a rifle slung over his shoulder. He was the perennial hero that usually had to be fabricated in books or movie theaters. Only now he was real and he was here.

CHAPTER 8

"Would you care for a cocktail?" The waitress who stood before them was dressed in a white ruffled blouse and colorful peasant skirt. She wore brown sandals and her black hair was long and tied back with a single red ribbon.

"Margaritas?" Michael's brow arched inquisitively and Sonny gave her nod of approval.

When the waitress returned, she carried a pitcher full and two wide-rimmed goblets with salt around the edges. Michael poured the drinks, then tipped his glass in a toast.

"Here's to our partnership and Pinebrook."

She touched her glass to Michael's and then took a slow sip of the cold liquid. There was something very traditional about having Mexican food and it reminded her that she was again in California and not in Paris. She couldn't remember the last time she'd had a chili relleno or a cheese enchilada.

"Penny for your thoughts," Michael said.

"Oh…I was looking at the beautiful colors in here and thinking that it makes me feel very happy." Sonny loved the tall pottery containers with their brightly painted flowers. The archways were adorned with tall ferns and baskets of greenery hung from the dark rafters. The atmosphere was cool and refreshing.

"Pm glad to hear you say you're happy. These past few weeks haven't been too easy for you, have they?" Michael's dark eyes were soft and sympathetic.

She had thought these past three months were unbearable, but sitting here now they seemed like minutes all fused together.

"It's not been too bad, Michael. I'm really going to mis the Lady and Midnight when I go home."

"Have you considered staying?" Michael asked the question very cautiously.

"No."

Michael was surprised by her quick answer, but felt the subject should be pursued. If Sonny had not given herself time to consider the possibility, then perhaps she would now.

"Midnight will be running in two years," Michael said, as he licked the salt from his lips.

"I can't even think that far ahead, Michael. Remember, I'm the impulsive one who lives for the moment."

"Yes, I know all about that side of you," he said smiling at her over the rim of his glass.

"Do you really think Midnight has what it takes?"

"He's got it all right, and more. This time the charts were right. He'll be a champion."

Sonny had wondered what Midnight would look like at full growth. He would be powerfully strong and run with the grace and agility of his mother. She tingled with the thought of nurturing the training of a champion Thoroughbred.

"I might come back to see him run," Sonny said quietly.

Michael moved his hand close to her and