O'Brien's Lady - By Marsha Doss Page 0,8

Hopefully, she could go shopping in the afternoon and write letters to Pierre and her roommate, Jan. Sonny knew that Michael was going to be watching every move, but there didn't seem to be anything that looked hard. What could be difficult about throwing hay in stalls and cleaning horses?

She had watched National Velvet many times and it all looked like a breeze.

"We'll have to clean out the stalls first, and I've fed most of them," Billy said as he led Michael and Sonny down to the front end of the barn. Michael walked a few paces behind. He walked with his hands thrust in his jeans pockets as he whistled, "When Irish Eyes Are Smiling". Sonny held her head high and tried to ignore him. If she kept this up, he might get bored and leave.

One hour later, Sonny was bent over a pitch fork, tossing hay into one of the empty stalls. Beads of sweat lay on her forehead and she kept pushing loose strands of hair away from her face. She felt the ache in her lower back and stopped for a moment to straighten up.

"Ready to quit?" Michael's deep voice came from behind her and when she turned around, she saw him leaning against the stall door, one leg crossed over the other and a smirk on his face.

"Never," she answered as she continued to work.

Sonny quickly touched her forehead with the sleeve of her sweatshirt, hoping he had not seen. He could stand there all day if he wanted, but she would not quit.

After the last stall had been cleaned, she carried the rake and pitch fork back to the empty end stall where barn tools and extra bedding were stored.

Michael had followed and was standing right behind her. If she turned around, she would be practically in his arms, and if she kept her back to him, he would eventually force her to leave anyway. Sonny pulled her shoulders back and then whipped around abruptly, almost smashing into Michael's broad chest.

"Do you enjoy watching other people work?" she asked.

"I enjoy watching you."

"Then do you mind moving, so I can finish?"

Michael leaned one hand against the wall over her head, entrapping her within his reach. He touched the side of her cheek with his fingertip, tracing the line of her jaw up into her eyebrows and then back down again to her mouth.

"Do you really want me to move, Sonny?" he asked softly.

She tried to look straight ahead, afraid to let her eyes meet his, but it was impossible. Michael tilted her chin up with his thumb, holding her gently as his eyes took quick inventory of every line of her

face.

"Michael, I don't have time for games. There's work to be done."

"So there is." Michael dropped his arm back to his side, and allowed Sonny to pass.

He moved forward, just as she passed and Sonny's leg brushed against his hard thigh. That moment of contact sent currents of electric shock through her and she tried to quicken her steps. But, Michael's arm was around her shoulders, filling her with an immediate need to escape to safer ground. Anywhere would do as long as Michael O'Brien could not work his charismatic influence over her usual sound reason ing.

"Wait, partner," he said softly. "I'll show you how we groom the horses.

"Billy can teach me."

"Not as well as I can." The twinkle was back in his dark eyes.

Grooming the horses was more difficult than Sonny had bargained for, but she was determined to hide the fatigue she felt. If Michael thought he was winning the first round, he would soon learn differently.

Billy joined them, handing Sonny the proper

brushes, showing her how to move with circular motions over the animal's coat. She watched as he worked expertly and quickly. When she began, her arms grew tired. By the time she had finished the black horse, she was ready to rest.

Michael had other plans.

"You've got the hang of it now," he said. "I want you to see Graceful Lady."

"Who is Graceful Lady?"

"She's our broodmare. Your father invested a lot into her foal."

"Another Pinebrook winner?" Sonny asked.

"Should be. The sire was Thunderbolt, winner of the Triple Crown."

"And that's going to make this foal a champion, Michael?"

Michael placed his arm around Sonny's shoulder. "Let me tell you how it works. By the charts, it appears that this could be the one your father waited for most of his life. He wanted that Triple Crown in the worst way."

"So, he picked the father