He chuckled softly. “You’re right. Old habits, I guess.”
Sophie wanted to ask what he’d meant by that, but she bit her tongue and stepped out of his embrace. Light poured into the room as she threw open a set of shutters. When Sophie turned back around, she found Trey surveying the interior of the cottage with a look of amazement.
“What the hell is this?” he asked. Crossing to stand next to one of the windows, he frowned as he read. “This is really weird. Who wrote all of this?”
“Passing sailors,” Sophie said. “From all over the world. It’s like a diary of this island. Thirty years’ worth of visits. And look what they left.” She crossed the room to the small counter and picked through the assortment of canned goods. “Spam,” she said, holding up a square tin. “It’s some kind of canned meat, I think.”
“Ah, no thanks.”
“Artichoke hearts?”
Trey shook his head, wrinkling his nose. “Only in a nice parmesan sauce over pasta.”
“Baked beans. Men always love baked beans.” She grabbed another tin. “And smoked oysters.”
“I’ve heard those are an aphrodisiac,” Trey said, sending her a playful leer. “I don’t think we need any more help in that area, do you?”
“Probably not,” Sophie said, pleased that he found no fault with their sex life. She bent down and opened the cabinet beneath the counter, curious to see what there was in the way of cooking utensils. She gasped in surprise. “Oh, my! Look at this. I think I’ve found something we can both agree on.” She grabbed one of the bottles lying on the shelf and held it up. “Wine.”
“Really?” Trey strode across the room and knelt down beside her. There were five or six bottles lying inside the cabinet including a couple of French vintages and a Merlot from the Napa Valley. “Nice. Although in this heat, the bottles might have gone bad. We’ll need a corkscrew.”
“I think there might be one in the pocketknife you were using from the plane,” Sophie said.
Trey sat back on his heels. “Instead of carting this stuff over to the other side of the lagoon, maybe we should just move camp, like you suggested. This cottage seems pretty weather tight. And the food and water are here.”
“But what about your shelter?”
“I think my ego will give way to comfort,” Trey admitted. “It did the trick for a while, but this seems to be a much better place to spend the night, don’t you agree?” He slowly stood and glanced around the room. “So this isn’t really a deserted tropical island. And we could have company at any minute.”
“I suppose we could,” Sophie said. “But it’s not likely. There aren’t many sailors who’d brave the typhoon season in the South Pacific. It would make for miserable sailing.”
“Good,” he murmured. “I don’t want any company. I’m enjoying the relaxed dress code.”
Sophie rearranged the cans on the counter. “After we move over here, I’ll make us a Christmas dinner and we’ll settle in and wait to get rescued.”
Just the word rescue brought a flood of regret. As much as Sophie wanted it to last, this time on the island would come to a very quick end. It would be over before she knew it, and all she’d be left with was memories. She let her gaze drift slowly down Trey’s body, then back up again. She had grown so used to having him near, and in such a short time.
They’d tossed aside the last of their inhibitions when they’d discarded their clothes. Now, there was nothing but a bit of fabric between her touch and his body, between his hands and her bare skin. If she wanted him, all she had to do was reach out and untie the knot in the pareu.
Temptation was always there, just within her reach. She could be naked in a matter of seconds and so could he. Both of them knew they wouldn’t be able to keep their hands off each other for very long. But it was an arousing game to try.
Sophie stepped toward him, tempted to pick up where they’d left off. But she twisted her fingers together in front of her. They had a lot of work to do and the sooner they got it done, the sooner they could relax. “If you could go gather our things from the other camp, I’ll get wood for the fire,” she said.
“I can help you with the wood,” he countered, grabbing her hand and placing it on his chest.
Just a simple touch sent a shiver of desire through her, strong enough for Sophie to realize that, from now on, working together was impossible. No doubt they’d find some excuse to touch each other again and then work would be forgotten in favor of sex.
“I’ll be fine,” she said. “The sooner we get this done, the sooner we can…relax.”
He gave her a look, as if he knew exactly what she implied with the word relax. “All right,” he said.
They strolled out of the cottage and stood on the porch. “Go on,” she said. “I’ll be here when you get back.”
He took her hand and pressed a kiss to the middle of her palm, drawing his tongue along her index finger, before putting her fingertip in his mouth. It was a provocative gesture and one that made her heart skip a beat. “You promise?”
“Where am I going to go?” Sophie teased. “It’s an island.”
Trey nodded reluctantly. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” He kissed her hand again, then stepped off the porch. “So, I’ll see you in a little while.”
“Yes, you will.”
They made a good team, Sophie mused as she watched Trey walk away. He was so even-tempered, so unselfish, that she couldn’t imagine them ever disagreeing. And even though they didn’t know each other at all, she couldn’t imagine having a better companion on a deserted tropical island.
Maybe working for him wouldn’t be such a crazy idea. If he really was going to build his resort, then she could be a valuable help to him. And it would add a lot more excitement to her life. Plus, there was the benefit of spending more time with Trey once they got off this island. And more time meant…well, more sex, didn’t it?
Still, Sophie had already decided her future wasn’t here on the islands, but in some exciting city. Was she willing to give up on that dream for good sex? A tiny smile quirked at the corners of her mouth. Maybe. If the sex was really good.
As for a real relationship, one that included love and commitment, Trey had a life of his own back in the States. And she wasn’t about to follow him around, begging for his attention whenever he might want to give it. This was a twenty-four-hour fling, nothing more. Once the twenty-four hours were over, they would be, too. And then, she’d find a way to start her new life away from these islands-on her own.
I T DIDN’T TAKE VERY LONG for Trey to gather their meager belongings. He put everything he could carry onto the canvas tarp and then tied it up with the ropes. He thought it might be easy to drag it along the sand, but in the end, he waded out into knee-deep water and floated the bundle as he walked.
The plane and his attempt at a campfire were the only things he left behind in their first camp. In truth, he was a bit sad to leave, even though they’d only lived at the location for the morning. They’d made love on the sand there and she’d pleasured him beneath the small clump of coconut palms. Once they moved, would things suddenly change?
When they’d first tumbled onto the beach, wrapped in each other’s arms, he hadn’t even thought about the consequences of what they were about to do. He’d been so glad to be alive, he hadn’t thought of anything else.
But with each touch, each kiss, his feelings for Sophie were growing. Was it simply because they were here alone, without anyone to interfere? In the past ten years, the press had hounded him unmercifully. Every relationship he’d gone into had been splashed across the pages of some magazine. He hadn’t been able to enjoy anything close to a normal romance with a woman.
Being here with Sophie was the nearest he’d come. And to his surprise, he was falling fast. He could barely stand to be away from her, so addicted was he to her presence. He had to fight to keep from touching her and kissing her. And there were times when he honestly felt he could be content simply list
ening to her voice for the next fifty years.
Was this what it was like to fall in love? Trey shook his head, pushing the thought from his brain. He’d met Sophie seven hours ago! Besides, he didn’t have a clue about what it was like to be in love. Lust, now that was another thing. But love wasn’t something Trey had ever experienced for himself.
As he approached the ruins of the old village, Trey called for Sophie. When she didn’t respond, he dragged their belongings onto the shore and went in search of her. After ten minutes, he came to the conclusion that she was either too far away to hear him or something was wrong.
Raking his fingers through his hair, Trey tried to calm the fear that coursed through his body. If something had happened, there was nothing he could do. They were alone on this island with no help available. Drawing a deep breath, he tried to think of where she might have gone.
He would have seen her had she walked along the shoreline. “Wood,” he muttered, spinning around to find a small pile of palm fronds near the front steps of the cottage. She’d probably walked across to the ocean side to search for wood.
He ran back through the grove of palms, past the water tanks, toward the ocean side of the motu. Sophie wouldn’t have been stupid enough to go swimming on her own. Hell, even he knew better than that.
Trey ran until his lungs burned, weaving through the tangled underbrush and dodging palm trees. When he burst out of the trees onto the beach, he bent over and gulped a deep breath of the humid ocean air. Sweat dripped down his chest and his legs were cut and bleeding from the sharp edges of old palm fronds.
He scanned the beach, then caught sight of her sitting on the sand a hundred yards away. Cursing softly, Trey kicked off his shoes and jogged toward her. She didn’t see him approach and when he called her name, Sophie jumped as if startled. Shading her eyes from the sun, she stared up at him.
“Jesus, Sophie, didn’t you hear me calling you?” He squatted down in front of her and peered into her face. “When I got back to camp and couldn’t find you, I was worried.”
“Where am I going to go?” Sophie asked.
“I don’t know. I thought you might have taken a swim in the lagoon and drowned. Or been bitten by some poisonous spider and were now lying under a tree, dying. Don’t scare me like that.”
“There are no poisonous spiders on this island,” she said. “Or in all of French Polynesia. I told you, the only thing that might kill me would be a centipede bite. Or a shark attack.”
“Well, there you go. I did have good reason to be worried.”
“There’s more chance I’d be killed by a falling coconut than a shark,” she said with a shrug.
He plopped down in front of her. “Really?”
Sophie nodded. “There are a lot of people killed by coconuts,” she said.
Trey reached out and grabbed her hands. “What are you doing out here?”
“Just sitting. I was curious what the beach was like on this side of the motu. This is nicer than the lagoon side, don’t you think? I mean for your resort.”
“Yeah, I guess.” Was that really what she was thinking about? He tried to calm his anger at her, knowing that he ought to be happy she was fine. But as he stared at her beautiful face, Trey realized he wasn’t really angry at her at all. She was a grown woman and could take responsibility for her own safety. He was angry at himself, for caring so much, for being frightened at the possibility of losing her.
“We’re going to get some bad weather,” she murmured. “There’s a squall coming in.”
Trey glanced back over his shoulder to see a wall of slate-gray clouds building on the southern horizon. “How long?”
“A few hours at least. We may have to secure the plane.”
“Why?”
“If the wind is high it will pick it up and flip it over. I saw some old pilings on the west side of the lagoon. We can pull it over to that spot and tie it down properly.”
“How high would the wind need to get to flip it over?”
“High. At Faaa, we just put it in the hangar.” She looked at him, a frown wrinkling her brow. “If the plane gets wrecked on this island, Madigan Air is out of business.”
Trey reached out and took her hand. “If it gets wrecked on this island, I’ll buy you a new plane,” he promised. He straightened, then pulled Sophie to her feet. She bent down and picked up her sandals and then wandered over to the water’s edge. Trey watched her, wondering at her subdued mood. Was she having regrets about what had happened between them? Just an hour ago, he’d never felt closer to a woman, but now, she seemed a million miles away.
“Come on, let’s go,” he said, holding out his hand.
She turned to face him, and took a step. An instant later, he saw a look of pain cross her face. “Oww!” she cried, as she hopped on one foot.
“What is it?”
Sophie looked down at the sand, then groaned. “Jellyfish.”
“They can be poisonous, can’t they?” he asked, a current of fear shooting through him.
“Just box jellyfish,” she replied, wincing as she hopped on one foot.
Trey stepped to her side and she wrapped her arm around his for balance. “How do we know what kind that is?” He pointed to the nearly transparent corpse lying in the sand.
“Help me rinse off my foot,” she said.
He scooped her up and carried her into deeper water, wading in up to his thighs so she could dip her foot in. “How do you know if it was a box jellyfish?”
She sighed impatiently. “Well, if I die, then we’ll know,” Sophie said in a wry tone.
“Don’t kid about that,” Trey warned.
She winced. “I think I can stand. You can put me down.”
“I’m going to carry you back to camp.” He set her on her feet and then turned his back to her. “Hop up.”
“You don’t have to do this,” she said.
“Don’t argue, Sophie. Just do as I say.”
He waited. He didn’t want to care so much, but Trey couldn’t help himself. What if something went wrong? What if the jellyfish was poisonous and there was nothing he could do to help her? They were stuck in the middle of nowhere, helpless and completely vulnerable. What had seemed like a fun time could turn deadly serious in a heartbeat.
She barely weighed more than the backpack he’d carried during his Outward Bound trip. Driven by adrenaline, they made it back to the cottage in less than fifteen minutes. He set Sophie down on the front steps, then bent to examine her foot. An angry red welt ran the length of it, from her ankle to her little toe.
“What should we do?” he asked.
“There’s not much you can do,” Sophie replied. “There’s a gel that I have at home that stops the sting…but that’s at home.” She leaned back, bracing her hands behind her. “You could always pee on it,” she suggested. “That’s supposed to work when you don’t have anything to relieve the sting.”
“You want me to pee on your foot?” Trey shook his head. “No, I’m not going to do that. I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“There’s a limit to how kinky I go and that’s beyond my limit. There has to be something else.”
“This isn’t sexual,” Sophie said. “It’s medical. I need something acidic and that’s all we have.”
“No, it isn’t,” Trey said. He took the steps two at a time and returned a few moments later with a bottle of red wine. “We have this.”
Trey made quick work of the cork, then dumped the wine over her foot, the liquid running down the steps and into the sandy ground. He took a quick swig for himself, then handed her the bottle and she did the same. “Is it feeling better?”
Sophie wrinkled her nose. “I think so.”
“How about you? Do you feel all right?”
She nodded. “I don’t think it was poisonous. Really, you don’t have to worry.”
He sat down on the steps and stared at her foot, trying to control his frustration. Why was she taking this so lightly?
Didn’t she realize how serious it could have been? It would kill him if anything had happened to her and he wasn’t able to help. Trey took another gulp of the wine, hoping that it would calm his nerves. “From now on, we stick together. You don’t go anywhere without me. Understand?”
“I’m not a child. You don’t have to talk to me like I am.” Her chin was set at a stubborn angle and she looked at him through narrowed eyes. The sweet, funny Sophie he’d known was suddenly replaced by a obstinate, dismissive, fiercely independent woman.
He wanted to lash out at her, to scold her for her part in this all. She’d made him care about her, made him want to protect her. And now he’d been forced to face the fact that he did care-more than he wanted to.
He leaned closer and pressed a kiss to the soft skin above her knee. “You have to be more careful,” he murmured, hoping to defuse the situation.
Sophie ran her fingers through his hair, brushing it away from his eyes, her lips pressed into a pout. “Don’t order me around. You have no right.”
“I’m sorry. So, what can I do to make you feel better?”
“Can I have more wine?” she asked.
He held the bottle out over her foot, but she grabbed it before he could pour and took a long swig. Sophie pointed to her sole. “Can you see any stingers? If you take the blade of the knife, you should be able to scrape them off.”
Trey held her foot up to the light and shook his head. “I don’t think so. But you probably shouldn’t walk on it for a while. I’m going to get a fire going and then we’ll figure out what to do about the plane.”
T HE RAIN BEGAN SHORTLY AFTER they returned from the beach. Within seconds, a few droplets had turned into a deluge, with water running off the tin roof in sheets. Trey had jogged to the other side of the lagoon and pulled the plane over to the submerged pilings. Relieved, Sophie had thought her worries were over.
But when Trey returned to the cottage, he’d informed her that the wood pilings were so rotted, it was impossible to tie it down securely. In the end, he had done what he could, but wasn’t confident that the plane would stay where it was.
Sophie rested her back against the weather wall of the cottage, freshly picked flowers from the vines scattered around her as she wove them into a wreath. They’d finished the first bottle of wine and Trey had opened a second. He occupied himself with tearing the canvas tarp into strips, intent on fashioning a hammock by weaving and knotting the canvas together.
Who Needs Mistletoe? Page 7
