O'Brien's Lady

O'Brien's Lady
is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher constitute unlawful piracy and theft of the author's intellectual property. If you would like to use material from the book (other than review purposes), prior written permission must be obtained by contacting the publisher at [email protected] Thank you for your support of the author's rights

Copyright © 2012 by Marsha Doss

All rights reserved.

CHAPTER 1

"Sonny!"

Sondra Mead turned her head in the direction of the hauntingly familiar voice and her gaze fell upon the heavy-featured face of Michael O'Brien. Four years in Paris had not altered the magnetism that drew her to him, for even in the crowded San Francisco airport, his presence was compelling.

His stride was as slow and deliberate as a sleek panther. Sonny braced herself as Michael moved closer, his eyes never leaving her face. His dark unruly hair and thick eyebrows accentuated skin that had been bronzed by constant exposure to the sun and wind. The broad, angular face with the deep indention in his chin, made him no more attractive than any other man. But, he possessed character and raw appeal, the kind male models strive so hard to achieve. How often had she looked for those qualities in her own photo sessions, only to settle for something less.

"Welcome home, Sonny." Michael's voice was deep and raspy and a curiously familiar look passed through his eyes as she stiffened under his open appraisal.

"I wish I were her under different circumstances," Sonny answered.

"I'm sorry about your father. If I can do anything…"

Sonny could not think clearly with Michael standing so near. She inhaled the smell of outdoors that he had brought with him.

"Thank you, Michael. My flight gave me time to think things through."

"You know you have the O'Brien's to help you. Dad and Katy are anxious to have you home."

Sonny's chin tilted upward as large blue eyes peeped from under the black hat that dipped stylishly over her face.

"Oh, but I'm not really coming home."

"What's that mean?" Michael asked.

"There's nothing for me at Pinebrook now that Dad's gone, and I can't be in two places at once."

Sonny maneuvered the strap of her camera carrying case on the shoulder of her red suit jacket. She envied women who carry bags on their shoulders. Hers were narrow and the straps kept sliding down her arm.

"So, you're going to stay in Paris?"

Sonny thought she detected a note of disappointment in his voice as he spoke.

"Of course." She quickly moved away, hoping Michael would not see the doubt that must have shown in her face. She wanted him to see that she was now sophisticated and able to handle her own life.

Michael followed her to the baggage claim area, her heels clicking on the floor with her short, quick steps. She reminded him of the fine Thoroughbreds he trained. She was proud and independent, yet there was a softness and certain vulnerability that contradicted her inherited aloofness. While he had fought with that stubbornness and self-reliance, he had admired her in more ways than he cared to remember. She had disappeared from his life four years ago as a head-strong teenager who wanted a glamorous career. Now, as his eyes fixed on her shapely legs and hips that moved seductively from side to side, he longed to hold her in his arms and…

Michael's attention was riveted back to reality and he abandoned the thoughts that filled his mind and threatened to re-kindle the feelings he wanted to suppress.

"Those are mine," Sonny announced, pointing to the black leather luggage appearing on the baggage carousel.

With one easy movement Michael had one tucked under his arm and held the other at his side. When they reached the second floor of the airport parking lot, he hoisted her bags into the bed of his white pick-up truck, then opened the door and helped her onto the front seat.

Sonny removed the shoulder strap of her carrying case, placing it between them.

"I thought Will might be picking me up," she said, trying to keep her voice light and her reasons hidden. What she had hoped for was a trip home without seeing Michael O'Brien.

"Dad had some paper work that has to be finished tonight, so I was elected," Michael answered honestly.

Sonny smiled. Will O'Brien had been stable manager for her father for as long as she could remember, and he loved his work. She stared straight ahead as thoughts of Pinebrook Farm invaded her mind. With J.B. gone, the responsibility would fall on her shoulders. The worst part was that she was about to inherit the very world she had tried so hard to

forget.

Michael maneuvered the truck out of the crowded Airport and onto the freeway. He tried to keep his eyes on the road, but became distracted when Sonny removed her hat, allowing blond waves to fall loosely over her shoulders. Her profile was a combination of finely chiseled features that blended with the softness of her creamy skin and pert nose that turned up unexpectedly at the end. There was a delicacy to her that made her alluring to Michael. And yet, she had a sharp tongue and a stubborn streak, just like her father, which he found to be infuriating and intoxicating at the same time.

"Why are you staring at me, Michael?"

"I wasn't." He lied. He was imagining what it would feel like to run his fingers through the silken strands of her hair or to nibble on her tiny earlobes.

Sonny felt an uneasiness with Michael so near and she pretended to watch the familiar scenery along the freeway. She had to break the silence that now filled the air between them and she began to make small talk.

"Did you know Paris is called the City of Lights?"

"No, didn't know that," he answered matter-of-factly.

Sonny pressed on. "You should go there sometime. It's wonderful."

"I like it here, Sonny."

"You think life begins and ends on the farm, don't you Michael?"

"Maybe it does."

He was just like her father had been.

Steadfast in his ways and unwilling to compromise or change. And that bothered Sonny.

"Well, moving away proved profitable for me. I like my life a lot better now, and my work."

"You take pictures, right?" Michael turned his head in her direction.

"Not just pictures…I photograph for a new fashion designer by the name of Pierre Dubois,"

She tilted her chin and looked at Michael with growing defiance burning in her crystal blue eyes. Enticed by her anger, Michael continued.

"And I suppose this Pierre Du..bwhat is very refined. "

"His name is Dubois. And yes, he is refined. And well-educated, profusely talented and very handsome."

"A man that draws pictures of dresses…" Michael shook his head slowly, deliberately letting the words slide off his tongue.

Sonny's high cheekbones were aflame with color and her eyes were alive with fire. The setting sun shown through the window, reflecting lights from her hair and the outer perimeter of her face seemed illuminated with a pinkish glow as she stared back at him with defiance.

Just like before, Michael teased Sonny with his eyes and words and she responded in the only way she knew how. He had considered her too young before and not taken her seriously, but now that she was a woman she could see through his flirtations and pretense at jealousy.

"Still trying to pick my friends and judge my choices, Michael?"

"No more than you did mine," he answered, his eyes becoming as expressionless as black coal.

"I never really had a chance. You were never with the same woman twice." There was a subtle challenge in Sonny's voice.

"Were you counting?"

A smile touched Michael's lips and he brushed the end of her upturned nose with his finger. It was a sensuous movement that immediately filled her with an uneasiness that began in the pit of her stomach and ended in the shortness of her breath. She turned away, before he could see how much his touch disturbed and excited her.

The twilight of early evening descended as Michael turned into the long, dirt road leading to the Mead property. Flanking the road on either side were tall pine trees that darkened the area around them. Sonny opened her window, feeling the rush of mild July air against her cheek. The smell of pine which filled her nostrils was something she had neither missed, nor remembered until now.

Michael switched on the headlights, which illuminated the iron gates that surrounded the front entrance. The lettering, which was etched in gold and sprawled over the carved figure of a horse read, "Pinebrook Farm, J.B. Mead, Owner". The sight of her father's name filled Sonny with a lump of remembrance that began around her heart and pushed its way into her throat. The wording, like her father, was bold and very impressive.

Michael pulled into the circular driveway in front of the two-story, gray colonial house with black shutters. A balcony surrounded by a wood railing stretched the length of the house and a step-up brick porch was complete with a deacon's bench and clay pots of flowers. The shuttered windows reflected light from inside and Sonny was both happy to be home and reluctant to enter.

Michael came around her side of the truck and extended his hand. As she placed her hand in his, he skillfully lifted her up from the seat and held her close to him. Easing her down, past his own face, with just a whisper between them, Michael brushed his lips against hers, while his strong arms held her tightly.

Sonny felt a surge of electricity and suppressed an uncontrollable urge to wrap her arms around Michael's muscular neck. Instead, she pressed her hands against his chest and turned away from the look of hunger that lurked within the darkness of his eyes. His touch awakened every part of her body and she hated him for arousing her feelings.

Michael reached out to her soul with his eyes that roamed her face and caressed her with lights of emotion. And then, just as easily as he had lifted her into his arms, he gently lowered her until her heels touched the hard ground.

Sonny searched her heart for an answer she would not receive. She had wanted Michael to kiss her in that instant when his arms were around her and she could feel the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest.

But he was just playing a silly game. A cruel game of cat and mouse and she had almost been lured into the trap. A mistake she would be careful not to repeat. Michael exuded virility and there had never been any doubt that he could attract and break a woman's heart all in the same day. No, she wouldn't be added to that long list of victims.Her hands trembled as she reached for her hat and camera that lay on the front seat. She slipped the leather strap over her shoulder and walked up the front steps to the wide double-door entry. As her hand reached for the knob, the door flew open and a smartly dressed woman of about 55 greeted her with a warm smile and outstretched arms.

"Sonny darlin'." Katy O'Brien's voice choked with emotion and her dark eyes filled with tears. "I see my nephew got you here in one piece."

"Yes, he did," Sonny answered, putting her arms around Katy. "It's so good to see you again."

"We've missed you so much. And now, with your father gone…" Katy reached into the pocket of her white skirt and promptly dabbed her eyes with a tissue.

Michael brushed past them with the luggage and then turned to Sonny.

"Need me for anything else?" he asked.

Sonny shook her head.

"Put those bags up in her bedroom, Michael, then leave us alone. We have some talk to catch up on," Katy ordered.

Katy's warm disposition filled Sonny with joy as they sat at the oak kitchen, sipping hot coffee and eating chocolate cake. For a woman who loved to cook, Sonny was surprised that Michael's aunt had kept herself so thin. Her dark hair, through which shown only a few white strands was cut in the latest short style, making her tanned face appear young and vibrant.