O'Brien's Lady - By Marsha Doss Page 0,29

Here was the moment she had waited for…no, dreaded all night. She might just as well get it over with.

"Good night, Michael and thanks for a nice dinner," she said, tilting her head up toward his face. Michael touched her chin with the tip of his finger and Sonny closed her eyes and held her breath. "Good night, Sonny."

Her lids flew open just in time to see him walking back around to the driver's seat. Sonny could not believe what had just happened. Michael was playing a game with her now. She hadn't given way to the old one, so it was time for new tactics.

He must have known she was waiting for that kiss and it infuriated her that he would leave her so abruptly.

As the truck drove off, Sonny clenched her fists at her side.

"Damn you, Michael O'Brien."

After a leisurely stretch, Sonny roused herself from bed and slipped her white terry robe over her gown, tying it securely at the waist. Like a fool, she had waited for Pierre's call and finally given up and gone to bed.

She ran a brush through her long hair and then padded downstairs in her furry slippers. As she came into the entry way, she heard the smooth voice with the familiar French accent.

Pierre!

"You've got company," Katy said giving Sonny a reproachful glance over her shoulder before leaving the room.

"Sondra, darling," Pierre's hand was outstretched as he walked toward her. As he grasped her hands in his Sonny was surprised by the soft feel of his skin. There were certainly no callouses here.

"Pierre, what a nice surprise. When I didn't hear from you yesterday, I thought you might not be here for another day or two."

Sonny had remembered him as being a very handsome man. But, what stood before her was a rather thin, pale man with a well-clipped black beard, cold blue eyes and naturally rosy cheeks. His skin was flawless. Too much so. And his eyebrows were very thin and perhaps too arched. Funny that she hadn't noticed them before.

Pierre wore a tailored white linen jacket, bone colored pants and a red silk shirt. He looked so out of place here at Pinebrook.

He adjusted the leather sachel thrown over his shoulder and then kissed Sonny lightly on each cheek. "I wanted to surprise you. And I have succeeded."

"You have indeed," she answered, smiling at him.

"I have come to take you to San Francisco for a little shopping, American style."

Sonny laughed. "Oh Pierre, I haven't shopped in so long."

"Then this will be our time. I will wait for you outside."

Sonny went into the kitchen to tell Katy that she would not be eating breakfast. Katy was scowling when she came through the door.

"I'm going into the city with Pierre, and I don't think I'll be home for dinner."

Katy smiled. "So, he came here all the way from Paris, did he?" She pretended to be wiping the counter, but Sonny knew she was just stalling for t ime.

"He's here on business. A fashion showing in New York and San Francisco."

"Hm-m. I would have guessed he worked with clothing, his skin being so white."Sonny gave Katy a disapproving look. "Fashion designing is a big business, Katy. Not every man loves horses."

"Your father said a man who could not ride a horse, was not to be trusted."

Sonny couldn't stop the gentle laughter as she thought of very proper Pierre working in the stables or trying to ride one of the Thoroughbreds.

"What's so funny?" Katy asked.

"I'll tell you someday."

Dressing for one of Pierre's "shopping sprees" was an art in itself. Sonny knew that the day might end with dinner and afterward dancing in some out-of-the-way spot. His excursions were always a mystery and she never knew quite where they would end. They were always a great source of excitement and pleasure.

Knowing she would have to wear something that could take her from day wear to evening, she chose a sleeveless beaded top to be worn beneath her red suit jacket. Habit had dictated that she bring the outfit and now she was glad she had.

As was so characteristic of Pierre, he would have made himself familiar with the city, knowing

where the best restaurants were and the night clubs that were frequented by the local society. That was his style. It was glitzy, but Sonny felt a twinge of excitement as she swept her hair up and applied fresh make-up.

Taking one last look, she noticed the nails that had never been manicured, and she silently cursed