Who Needs Mistletoe?

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Who Needs Mistletoe? Page 12

by Kate Hoffmann


  A knock sounded on the door and Sophie turned. Trey had been outside for the past half hour, biding his time and tending to the fire. But the rain had increased in intensity again, evident from the sound of it on the tin roof. She took a deep breath and walked over to the front door, then pulled it open.

  But instead of setting eyes on Trey, she found herself staring at a clump of palm fronds tied together at the base with a short length of rope. Interwoven in the fronds were blooms picked from the vines on the porch. “Oh, you’ve brought me flowers,” she exclaimed.

  He slowly lowered the fronds to reveal his face. “It’s supposed to be a Christmas tree,” Trey admitted.

  Sophie smiled. It did look a bit like a tree, if she didn’t look too closely. And he’d done the best he could in their circumstances for ornaments. “It’s lovely,” she said, stepping aside to let him enter. “Thank you.”

  He crossed the room to the lantern, then set the “tree” on the counter, leaning it up against the wall until it was balanced upright. He’d found his shirt and put it on, buttoning it properly and rolling up the sleeves, but his hair was still wet and his shorts soaked. “Not bad,” he murmured.

  “It does look festive,” she said.

  Trey plucked a blossom from the tree and turned to her, then tucked it behind her right ear. She fixed her gaze on his face, then reached up and turned the flower around. It was clear by the look in his eyes that he understood the signal. He bent closer, wrapping his arm around her waist and dropping a soft kiss on her lips.

  “Merry Christmas, Sophie,” he murmured.

  “Merry Christmas, Trey,” she replied, desire humming in her veins. Now that they were both dressed as they had been when they’d met, the thought of getting naked was even more exciting. She couldn’t just look at Trey and admire his body as she had for most of the day. Now, she was left to imagine what was hidden beneath the clothes.

  “Would you like some champagne?”

  He blinked in surprise. “We have champagne?”

  Sophie picked up the bottle and held it out to him. “It was on the bottom, beneath the other bottles. Someone was thoughtful to leave it behind.”

  “Very,” Trey said as he pulled the foil off the cork. “Let’s hope it’s still good.”

  A moment later, the cork popped. He sniffed at the bottle. “It still smells okay.” Tipping it to his mouth, Trey took a sip and smiled. “It would probably be better chilled, but I’m not going to complain.” Trey held out the bottle. “A toast. To my lovely pilot and castaway companion. I can’t think of another person I would have wanted on this island with me.”

  His words were incredibly sweet and Sophie couldn’t help but blush. Everything seemed so different now, as if they’d brushed aside a curtain hanging between them. It was all right to admit she cared about him and that her feelings were more than just lust. Trey Shelton was a man any woman would be lucky to claim as her own.

  “We don’t have much time left here,” she said. “They’ll send out planes at first light. And they’ll probably come here first.”

  “If they don’t?”

  “They will. Sooner or later, they’ll find us. Or another boat will come along. If all else fails, we could try to fly out. I can drain the fuel sumps and we can hand prop the plane to start it. But I don’t really want to do that without knowing what’s wrong. Hand propping can be dangerous.”

  “Hand propping? What is that?”

  “That’s when I sit in the plane and you spin the propeller. If you don’t pull your hands back in time, they-well, you don’t have hands anymore.”

  Trey held up his hands. “I kind of like these things. Besides, I don’t mind staying a few more days.”

  Sophie smiled. “Your family will come looking for you, no doubt. Whether we like it or not, I’m afraid, we’re going to be rescued tomorrow.”

  Trey gave her a reluctant smile. “Yeah. I know. But a guy can dream, can’t he?”

  “It hasn’t been all bad,” she said, taking a sip of the champagne, the bubbles tickling her nose. “The landing wasn’t so much fun, but after that, it’s been pretty nice.”

  He nuzzled her neck, biting softly. “Just nice?”

  “Better than nice.” She shivered as his lips trailed to her shoulder. “It’s been interesting.”

  “Oh, no, not interesting. Watching someone pet a puppy is nice. Watching someone build a house is interesting. Certainly, you have a better word than that for us.”

  Sophie took another sip of the champagne and handed him the bottle. “All right. How about intoxicating?”

  “How about tantalizing?”

  “Enthralling?”

  “Mind-blowing?”

  “Earth-shattering.”

  “We are good together,” he admitted. He set the bottle down on the counter and pulled her into his arms. A heartbeat later, his mouth was on hers, soft, yet demanding. His fingers ran through her hair, and he molded her lips to his.

  Sophie had come to know his kiss so well. She could walk into a pitch-black room, filled with a hundred men and pick him out of the lot by just the fleeting touch of his mouth. How was it that she could know this part of him so well, the way he seduced her, the way he made her body ache with need, yet not even know what he liked to eat for breakfast or how he took his coffee?

  She stepped out of his embrace and grabbed his hand, then led him over to the counter. Boosting herself up, Sophie drew him between her legs, her hands clutching the front of his shirt. “We’ve been on this island together for a day, but I don’t know anything about you.”

  “I’m not very complicated,” Trey said. “But if you’re curious, ask away. I’ll answer any question you have. As long as you do the same for me.”

  “This doesn’t have to be the Spanish Inquisition,” Sophie said. She turned and picked an oyster out of the tin and placed it on a cracker, then held it out to him. “We’ll pretend that we’ve just met at a holiday party. Your friend Bob and my friend Danielle introduced us. We find ourselves sitting together…on a terrace. Under the moonlight.” Sophie held out her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she said. “What did you say your name was again?”

  “Peter,” he said. “But my friends call me Trey.”

  “Peter.” Sophie gave him a coy smile. “I’ll call you Pete. My name is Ann-Marie. But my friends call me Sophie.”

  “Your name is really Ann-Marie?”

  She nodded. “Sophie is my middle name. My mother is Ann-Marie. My father insisted I be named after her. But she always called me Sophie, so it stuck.”

  Trey nodded. “I like this,” he said. “So, Sophie, what do you say we blow this boring party and find a place where we can be alone?”

  “Where are you going to take me?” she asked, toying with the top button of his shirt.

  “I have a really fast car outside. We’ll put the top down and ride up to Malibu.”

  “Malibu? What is that?”

  “A beach in California.”

  “Oh, we’re in California?” she teased. “I just assumed we’d be in Tahiti.”

  “No, we’re in L.A.,” Trey said.

  “Well, if we’re not going to be in Tahiti, then I’d rather be in Paris. We can take a ride along the Seine in your convertible.”

  “You’re making this really difficult,” Trey said, frowning.

  “Then maybe we should stay at this boring party a little longer,” Sophie suggested. “And get to know each other better.”

  “So I’m going to have to charm you?”

  Sophie nodded slowly, a smile curling her lips. “Yes. And maybe, if you’re lucky, I’ll let you take me home at the end of the evening.” She smoothed her hands over the front of his shirt. “So, Pete, what do you do for a living? I want to know everything about you.”

  7

  T HE STORM RAGED OUTSIDE , the wind rattling at the old shutters and threatening to blow in the front door. It was raining so hard the sound from the tin roof had almost
become background music. The darkness was broken only by the flashes of lightning and a wavering light from the old lantern Trey had found.

  Sophie handed Trey the empty champagne bottle, then launched into another verse of “The Twelve Days of Christmas.” They’d begun singing Christmas carols after the effects of the champagne had set in, Sophie standing before him in her pareu and fumbling through “pipers piping” and “geese a-laying.”

  Though Sophie wasn’t much of a singer, Trey found her performance endlessly charming. But when she got to “five golden rings,” Trey pushed off the wall and playfully covered her mouth with his hand. “No more,” he cried. “I can’t take it.”

  She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him playfully. “It’s Christmas Eve. What else are we going to do?”

  In truth, there were plenty of things that they could have been doing. They had one condom left and Trey intended to make passionate love to Sophie before the sun came up in the morning. And this time, he was determined it would be more than just a physical release for them both.

  The doubts and insecurities that they’d both felt building had been banished by their argument. Like a valve releasing steam, they’d simply let go. They were laughing and having fun, dissolving into silly giggles and outrageous teasing, then taking time out to kiss and tease each other.

  Trey couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this close to a woman. Maybe he’d never experienced it. He felt her laughter in the depths of his soul, as if the sound of her voice was vital to life. Like eating or breathing.

  He couldn’t stop touching her, couldn’t seem to stop watching her every move. Every time she looked at him, he found some new facet of her beauty to explore. And when he finally realized what was happening, Trey wasn’t surprised or even concerned. He was falling in love with Sophie and it was the most natural thing in the world.

  “Damn,” he said, rubbing his forehead. “I forgot my presents.” He pressed his finger to her lips before she could begin another song. “Stay right here.”

  “I thought we weren’t going to open them until tomorrow morning,” she said.

  “If it will get you to stop singing that ridiculous song, then you can open them tonight.” He walked over to the front door, where they’d piled all their belongings to get them out of the rain. Bending down, Trey grabbed his bag then returned to the center of the room. He sat down on the floor, pulling her down with him, then handed her three small packages. They looked rather festive, wrapped in yellow legal paper and tied with palm fronds.

  “Where did you get presents?” she said.

  “Didn’t I tell you? There’s a Bloomingdale’s on the other side of the island. You can take the subway right to the front door.”

  “What is Bloomingdale’s?”

  He nodded. “A department store? In New York City? At Christmas, they have the most wonderful window decorations. Someday, maybe we’ll go there and see them together.” He pointed to the smallest package. “Go ahead. Open that one first.”

  The thought of them spending Christmas together in New York was almost enough to make up for the pathetic trove of gifts he’d managed to find. He wanted to show Sophie the world, all the wonderful things she hadn’t yet seen. And then he wanted to show her all those that she had, so they might experience them together.

  “Pretty wrapping paper,” she said as she tore open the first package. Inside, she found a chocolate bar. A gasp slipped from her lips and she seemed genuinely surprised. “Where did you get this? Oh, this is wonderful.”

  “It was in my bag. But it had your name on it.” He’d given expensive jewelry to women and never gotten such an enthusiastic reaction.

  Sophie wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him, lingering over his lips for a long time. “Thank you. We’ll have it for dessert.”

  Trey handed her the next package. “And what’s this?” she asked.

  “That’s actually yours already,” he said. “I figured, at least you’d like it.”

  She pulled away the paper to discover a bottle of nail polish that had been sitting at the bottom of her purse for the past few months.

  “It fell out of your purse when you pulled out the monoi. If we run out of things to do, I can paint your toes. I was really good at art when I was a kid.”

  “I’d like that,” she said with a laugh. “What a nice present.” Sophie held up the last package. “Maybe I should save this for tomorrow morning.”

  “Open it now,” he said.

  Trey had thought long and hard about this gift, but in the end decided to give it to her anyway. After all, at this point, he had nothing to lose. She glanced up at him as she ran her fingertip over the plastic card.

  “It’s my frequent-flyer card,” he said. “I have a lot of miles. I thought you could decide where you wanted to go and…just go. I’ll get you a ticket. Paris, London. Wherever you want.” He paused, then reached out and took her hand. “We could meet. I could show you the sights. We could drive up to Malibu or shop at Bloomingdale’s or visit the Eiffel Tower.”

  She stared down at the card and Trey said a silent prayer. If she accepted, then he knew there would be a time for them off this island-a chance at just a few days, maybe a week together in the real world.

  “Thank you,” she murmured, her voice soft and filled with emotion. “It’s a wonderful gift.” Sophie glanced up, tears glistening in her eyes. “I’m sorry, I don’t have anything for you.”

  He shrugged, surprised by her sudden emotion. “That’s all right. It was just something silly to do.”

  “But it was nice,” Sophie said. “It was a very nice thing to do. It feels like Christmas now.”

  “All right, continue with the song,” he said, hoping to cheer her mood again. “I believe you had stopped at five golden rings.”

  “I don’t feel like singing.” She slowly got to her feet and walked to one of the windows, peering through the shutters at the storm outside. “This isn’t how I expected to spend Christmas Eve.” She glanced back at him, forcing a smile.

  “You miss your father?”

  “Yes. But that’s not it. The past few Christmases, my father and I would open gifts and then he’d drink too much and fall asleep in his chair. And I’d sit there and wonder if there was anyone else in the world quite as lonely as I was.” She sniffled, brushing away her tears with the back of her hand. Then a smile broke through. “But I’m not lonely now. This is the best Christmas I’ve had in a long time.”

  The truth was, Trey didn’t want to be anywhere but here, with Sophie. And try as he might, he couldn’t feel guilty for finding some kind of pleasure in this time marooned on the island.

  Trey got to his feet and joined her at the window. “Everything is going to be all right, Sophie. I promise.” It was the only thing he could think to say that might stop her tears. And yet Trey knew it was the truth. He would make everything right for her. And she’d never have another lonely Christmas again. Not if he had anything to say about it.

  Sophie wrapped her arms around his waist and nuzzled her face into his chest. Running his hand over her hair, Trey kissed the top of her head. It was so easy to lose himself in the feel of her body touching his. But every kiss, every embrace was filled with more meaning and more intensity.

  He drew back and wiped her cheeks with his thumbs. “Don’t cry.” He wrapped his arm around her waist, then took her hand in his. “Come on. There’s a band playing. Let’s dance.” Slowly, he began to move, gliding her around the floor as he hummed “White Christmas.”

  Sophie was reluctant to participate at first, but then he picked up the tempo and pulled her into a swing dance to “Jingle Bell Rock.” Trey didn’t know half the words and hummed almost everything but the chorus. And before long, they were laughing again.

  He didn’t like to see Sophie sad. When she hurt, he felt almost frantic to soothe her. But then he realized it was all right to let her cry, or yell or pout if she wanted to. She’d held her emotions i
n for so long that letting them out was a good thing. If she could feel passionately enough to get angry at him or to weep in front of him, then she could feel passionately enough to love him.

  “Look out,” he warned. “Dip coming up.” Holding tight to her waist, he leaned Sophie back, then yanked her up again. Before long, they were moving easily around the floor, their steps strangely in sync with each other. “We’re not too bad, are we?”

  “You’re a good dancer,” she said.

  “My mother made me take dancing lessons when I was a kid. She said someday I’d appreciate knowing how. She’s right.” He glanced down at her, then dropped a kiss on her lips. “Feeling better?”

  She rested her head on his shoulder as he moved her slowly around the room, this time singing “Silent Night.” “I wish I’d known you when you were a little boy,” she murmured. “I wish I’d known you when you were a young man.”

  “You wouldn’t have liked me very much,” he said.

  “Why not?”

  They continued to dance in silence, Trey wondering how much he ought to tell her about his life before Suaneva. “I suppose you’ll find out anyway, once we get off this island.”

  “It can’t be that bad.”

  “It’s not good. I have a bit of a reputation around town. Actually, around the world. Some journalists have called me a wastrel. Others, a playboy. A boy toy. A himbo.”

  “A himbo?”

  “The male equivalent of a bimbo,” Trey explained. “All looks, no brains. I don’t think I deserved that label, but then, the press is never really interested in the truth.”

  “I don’t understand. Why would they call you that?”

  He opened his mouth, ready to change the subject. But then, Trey decided to tell her everything. He wanted to be honest with her, to let her know that he’d left that life behind. “Because that’s what I am, Sophie,” he said. “I’m famous for spending money. And for being with famous women. You said that once they realized I was missing, they’d call my parents. In twenty-four hours, the whole world is going to know that you and I spent the night on this island. They’re going to want to talk to you and take your picture and get all the salacious details.”

 

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