91.   She tossed her short black hair.

92.   Men do prefer blondes, she thought, and unconsciously pushed back a strand of her own urchin-cut black hair.

93.   She had black hair, too, a sort of spiky cut, but that was the fashion then.

94.   David tugged a lock of black hair.

95.   Her black hair suited her elfin face, cut short.

96.   He gently pushed back a strand of her inky black hair.

97.   With that thought came a vivid picture of a lean, arresting face, the light, brilliant eyes in striking contrast to the black hair and brows.

98.   He leaned back in his chair and regarded her intently while a warm breeze which had sprung up ruffled his black hair.

99.   Her heart beating erratically, she obeyed, clasping her hands together to prevent her fingers from straying into his black hair.

100.   Mocking eyes closed, firm mouth relaxed, black hair tumbling over his high forehead, he appeared younger, exposed, subject to the vulnerability that sleep brought.