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 covered it with his own. "Stay, Sonny. Help me train him and we'll watch him run together."
The floor was moving under her suddenly and she felt a stab of pain in the pit of her stomach.
Michael was still holding her hand and she couldn't stop the trembling in her legs.
It would be so easy to let herself believe that look in his eyes or let herself promise to stay, but Sonny could not decide whether she should trust Michael. After all, if she caused problems at the end of the six month period, then he could stand to lose the farm that he now shared with her.
And, why would she give up the glamour she had found in Paris and the excitement she enjoyed with
Pierre? Those things didn't come along in someone's life everyday. At least not in hers. No, she told herself as she pulled her hand away, she mustn't let her emotions rule her good sense of judgement. This was just a ploy to keep the farm, and she had to recognize Michael's motives as well as her own.
She was relieved to see the waitress coming toward them with two large earthenware plates.
The food was hot and delicious and Sonny was surprised that she cleaned her plate."working on the farm stimulates the appetite," Michael said, "among other things."
Sonny ignored the implication of his remark as she took a sip of her Margarita. As she felt the last bit of salt cling to her mouth, she slowly ran her tongue around the corners. Michael was following her actions carefully, knowing that she was unaware of the sensual effect she was creating.
Her hair was full and softly waved around her face and the small nose that turned up was just the least bit shiny. Michael remembered what it had felt like to kiss her and to taste her alluring sweetness.
"Is something wrong?" she asked, suddenly aware that she was being carefully scrutinized.
"Why?"
"You're looking at me in a strange way."
"Just memorizing your face," Michael said softly.
Sonny shivered involuntarily. Stop it, Michael, she thought, before I forget what you're trying to do to me. Her eyes looked away from his broad face and the thick eyebrows that arched slightly, gave him the appearance of a rogue. A very handsome rogue, at that.
"You're wasting all this small talk on me," Sonny said quickly. "Why not save it for Carol Ann Layne."
Michael smiled wickedly. "Do I hear a little jealousy in your voice?"
"Me?"
"Yes, you Sonny."
"Why would I be jealous of a woman with false eyelashes and black roots." Sonny traced the outline of her glass with her finger. "That would be absurd wouldn't it?"
Michael leaned across the table. "Would it?"
Sonny licked the last bit of salt from her finger and placed the glass to the table. She didn't trust herself to look at his eyes because she could already feel the color rush to her face. Why did Michael always catch her off-guard? She had felt so ready for him this evening, so much in charge. She quickly recovered her composure.
"I think we should be getting back home," she said as she dabbed the corners of her mouth with the napkin.
Michael leaned forward, until his face was very close to hers. "Sure, if that's what you want."
Sonny stiffened and pushed her chair back. In one fluid movement, Michael was behind her, gently touching her elbow and helping her to her feet. When he made no effort to release his hold, she held her head high and walked out beside him.
He's going to kiss me, she thought all the way home. She imagined him stopping in the driveway, pulling her over and all but crushing her with his firm mouth. She could almost feel his hot breath spilling over her. No…he'd walk her to the front door, then…What am I doing, she thought. I don't want him to kiss me!
Sonny had never waited for Pierre's kiss. It was something was offered as a sign of affection. Nothing passionate and certainly nothing that awakened anything. And, it was comfortable. She recalled evenings with Pierre when her thoughts had been on the next day's work and not on the smell of his cologne or the dark hair on his arms and chest or…she looked at Michael's profile, silhouetted against the window and her heart did flip flops.
Michael pulled into the driveway and stopped the motor. Coming around to the passenger's side, he opened the door and extended his hand. Sonny stepped out mechanically.
This is it, she thought. 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 herself for forgetting. She could only hope that Pierre would not notice.
He was waiting patiently when she came downstairs. When she stepped outside she was shocked to see the white limousine parked in the driveway, its driver waiting patiently for her.
"Pierre, we could have taken my car," Sonny protested.
"No, we cannot. I want to have time to talk with you. We have so many plans to discuss."
As the driver in the dark suit opened the door for them, Sonny slid into the luxuriously upholstered seat. This was certainly extravagant, even for a man of PierreJs tastes.
As they drove from the house, Sonny saw Katy peeping around the window and pulling her head back quickly when she thought she had been seen. For certain, Michael would already be getting an earful of this, she thought happily.
It served him right.
The cool air of the limousine surrounded Sonny and she began asking Pierre all sorts of questions about his fashion showing.
"They loved my designs," he said enthusiastically. "The American audiences are very open-minded and receptive."
"Of course," Sonny agreed. "We love anything French."
Pierre ran his slender fingers through his dark hair and then he smiled at Sonny. "I have brought you a little something," he said.
"What is it?" Sonny's blue eyes were bright with anticipation.
"Oh, it is for another time. Not today."
Pierre looked very satisfied with himself as he placed his warm hand over Sonny's. She remembered the touch of Michael and how alive it had made her feel. Now, seated next to Pierre, she was comfortable, complacent and inanimate.
When they finally reached Union Square, Pierre and Sonny began their shopping at Neiman-Marcus. From there they toured every one of the finer stores they could find. By the time five o'clock came, Sonny had been presented with perfume, lingerie and a jacket that Pierre just had to have for her.
As they settled back into the cushions of the limousine, Sonny turned to Pierre.
"You shouldn't be buying me these presents."
"You never minded before, Sondra," he answered with a puzzled look on his face.
He was right.
She had never objected before today because she had accepted the gifts in the light hearted spirit in which they were given. But now, she could not dispel that creeping feeling of guilt. It did not seem fair to accept presents from one man when her mind was on another.
Michael again. He was invading her privacy and making life difficult as well as distressing. There was not a part of her that could forget him, even for an afternoon.
Pierre made a quick stop at his hotel for a change of clothing. The ornate suite was decorated in heavy Louis XV furnishing and oil painting reminiscent of the Renaissance. Sonny marveled at how much he belonged in these surroundings.
"I won't be long," he said as he disappeared behind the double door entry to the bedroom. Sonny walked over to the tall narrow windows and looked down at the busy intersection below. She wondered how comfortable she would be escorting Michael to his hotel room.
When Pierre reappeared, he wore a black tuxedo with royal blue satin lapels and matching shirt. His flamboyancy overwhelmed her. A few months ago, she would hardly have noticed.
They dined in a exquisite restaurant adorned with crystal chandeliers and red velvet chairs. As Sonny sipped slowly on a glass of white wine, she wished for a taste of Margarita.
"You seem pre-occupied this evening," Pierre noticed.
"A little tired, that's all. I haven't been out this late since I left Paris."
"I find that hard to believe," Pierre said, shaking his head.
" I do too. But it's true."
"Tell me, Sondra, will you come back with me?"
That was the one question Sonny was unprepared to answer. She had explained her situation in detail to him, but now that she was training Midnight, she would not leave if she could. Staying another three
months would be necessary and by that time she would be ready to leave the chestnut colt,
"You know I have to abide by the terms of my father's will."
"I miss you. Life will not be the same until you return." Pierre reached across the table to touch her with his long, tapered fingers. "I will persuade you to come back with me," he said simply.
"I can't, Pierre."
"I am sure this Michael can handle things without you."
"It's not the farm exactly… it's Midnight. He needs me."
Sonny wanted so much for Pierre to understand how she felt, but looking into his troubled eyes she knew that he did not. The camaraderie that was formed between horse and owner was something he had not experienced and she could never put that into words.
It was a feeling of commitment that came with the territory.
"Ah, yes…Midnight, the magical colt who had stolen you away from me. When can I be properly introduced to this rival?"
"As soon as possible," Sonny agreed happily. Pierre smiled affectionately at Sonny, noticing
the fire and determination that burned in her blue eyes. There was more here than was rising to the surface and he was certain he would have to be very careful. He now had a fighting Irishman and a beautiful horse to contend with. The sooner she left Pinebrook, the better off they both would be.
Sonny was exhausted by the time she returned home. It had been good to see Pierre again and to talk and make plans for his designs. But, it had not been as stimulating as an early morning ride on horse-back with the fingers of the wind caressing her hair nor had it filled her with the warm exultation of a foal trying to stand on new legs. The sky had been filled with stars tonight, but surely they weren't the same ones she and Michael had seen only last week The full moon that had one night illuminated the darkness now seemed small and far away. Her existence, which had been filled with sweat and hard work and raw emotions, now seemed bland by comparison. What on earth had been happening to her these past three months.
What indeed.