O'Brien's Lady - By Marsha Doss Page 0,5

room, she could think this thing through and make some sense of it all. Right now, her mind was tormented with the unpredictable future that lay ahead.

Until the news of her father's death had reached her, life had been comfortable and predictable. No changes, no surprises and best of all, no Michael O'Brien. In just a few days, everything was being turned around and she was trapped at the bottom with no visible means of escape.

Ben Mathison made quick order of discussing the terms of the will and left papers for each of them to sign and send back to his office in San Francisco. Sonny wanted time to digest the contract and Ben had agreed to leave her alone.

Michael watched her, as she held the paper

between her fingers, looking more like a frightened young child than a sophisticated photographer. He wanted, more than anything, to hold her in his arms and kiss away the pain of her father's last wish. But that was impossible, because Sonny wanted to leave Pinebrook, She would tire of this kind of life and crave more excitement. Michael did not want to lose her again, for he knew that she would eventually leave for Paris, just as she had four years ago.

"Why did you do this, Michael?"

"Do what?"

"Convince my father that you should have a portion of the inheritance that was rightfully mine."

"J.B. made his own decisions. This one just happened to involve me." Michael's attempts to excuse himself were not working.

"Dad and I weren't very close, Michael, but one thing held never do is leave Pinebrook to anyone but me." Sonny's face shown with bold defiance as she tilted her head to the side.

Michael's eyes still burned with inner lights of mockery and he seized the opportunity to spar with her, something he had missed for a long time. "You might say this is no longer just Mead property. I think my signature on this paper will make it Mead-O'Brien."

Sonny dropped her arms to her sides and clutched the paper tightly between her fingers.

"You only control half, Michael, and only for six months," she said emphatically.

"Oh?" he said, his thick brows arching in question.

"I intend to buy out your half eventually."

"Funny, I was thinking of doing the same thing." Michael smiled and folded his arms.

"You wouldn't dare," she uttered in disbelief. "If anyone should have control of the land it's me."

"And why not me, Sonny? I've worked it while you've been running all over Paris without a thought in your head about life back here."

"That's your opinion," Sonny replied with heavy sarcasm.

"Prove me wrong," Michael challenged.

"Why should I? You seem to have figured me out all by yourself."

A suggestion of annoyance edged into Michael's dark eyes and his mouth was set in a firm line of determination. His arms went around her in one swift, smooth movement and she felt his large hands pressing against her back. The muscle in his jaw twitched

involuntarily and the twinkle of his eyes had been replaced with a dark and almost frightening look of determination. Sonny shivered as she looked up into his bronze face, but she would not show him that he, more than any other man, could arouse and crush her feelings in a matter of seconds,

Michael's jaw was clenched and a sudden look of sheer pain passed between the fluttering of his eyelids. "You're going to have to get hold of yourself, Sondra Mead, because the next few months aren't going to be easy for either of us."

"Michael…" she began, but his finger was quickly pressed to her lips and his hands loosened their grip on her back. Her breath was coming in short, uneven gasps and her throat became very dry.

"I'll be here at seven tomorrow morning. We'll start work down at the stables." Michael dropped his arms to his side and promptly left without another words.

Sonny returned to her father's den later that evening, and found herself looking at the photographs that lined the wall. The antique grandfather clock against the far wall chimed softly, then resumed its rhythmic ticking.

A whole lifetime of accomplishment seemed to unfold before her as she looked first at the black and white print of her parents standing beside Irish Crystal, the stallion J.B. had purchased in Ireland many years ago. The years unfolded as the faces grew older and then there was the awkwardly posed pictures of Will O'Brien, the trainer the Meads had brought home with them to reside and work at Pinebrook Farm.

Sonny smiled,