Kate Hoffmann - Who Needs Mistletoe?

Sophie plopped down on the top step and watched him as he gathered up the collection of canned goods for their meal, her elbows braced on her knees, her chin cupped in her palm.

“You know, if we didn’t have this pocketknife, we’d be in pretty big trouble.” Trey held it out. “Corkscrew, can opener, knife, scissors, tweezers. If we just had a few more tools we could build a boat and get ourselves off this island. Kind of like MacGyver.”

“Does he have a lot of tools?” she asked.

Trey chuckled softly. He kept forgetting that he and Sophie had grown up on opposite sides of the world. Her cultural references were completely different from his. Still, he was amazed at how easily she moved between cultures. Now that she’d spent the day with him, her accent had all but disappeared. “Yeah, he’s got a lot of tools. He could make a luxury yacht out of a chewing-gum wrapper and a rubber band.”

She stared at him, her head tilted. “How is that possible?”

“American television,” he said. Trey set an open can of beans on the edge of the fire, then stood back to watch it. “I’m going to buy myself one of these knives when I get home.”

“You can have that one,” Sophie offered. “As a memento of our time together.”

“Thanks,” Trey said, staring down at the knife. “That’s nice of you.”

Though the knife was a thoughtful gesture, Trey wanted more than that. He at least wanted a promise that they’d see each other again. A chance to find out if there was anything between them once they were off the island.

“You are about to enjoy the full extent of my cooking skills,” he said, when the beans began to bubble.

Sophie watched as he straightened and carried the can over to her, using a piece of canvas as a potholder. He set them down, shaking his hand, burned from the heat from the can.

Sophie took his fingers and licked his fingertips, then blew on them. The cooling effect sent a flood of desire racing through his body and Trey cursed inwardly. Would there ever come a time when she could touch him and he wouldn’t automatically think about sex?

When she was satisfied that his fingers would be all right, Sophie sat back and waited while Trey laid out the rest of the feast between them. Sliced papaya, smoked oysters, another bottle of red wine. A tin filled with crackers that they could use to scoop up the beans. All in all, Trey thought it was a rather well-rounded meal.

“Five star,” he said.

“Are you sure we should eat these oysters?” she asked.

He sat down opposite her. “I don’t know. Do you think they might make us do something crazy later?” Trey asked.

Sophie giggled. “I hope so.” She plopped one on top of a cracker and gobbled it down. “What’s the craziest thing you’ve ever done in your life?”

This was not a game Trey wanted to be playing. He’d done far too many crazy-and stupid-things to recount. Things he was ashamed of now. “I don’t know.”

“Have you ever had sex in a public place?” Sophie asked.

“Oh, we’re talking about crazy sex? I thought you meant like losing a hundred thousand on one spin at roulette in Monte Carlo or wrecking a vintage Ferrari sports car the day after I bought it or punching out a policeman in Paris.”

Sophie gasped. “You did all that?”

Trey had almost forgotten that Sophie knew nothing of his life before she’d met him. “No,” he lied. “I was just using those as examples.”

She ate another oyster. “So. Tell me.”

Hell, he didn’t want to lie to her. But his sexual escapades were a lot worse than anything else he’d ever done. “Well, there was this one time. With this woman I barely knew. We met on an airplane and-well, you know the rest.”

“I do?”

He nodded. “You were there.”

“That was the craziest sex you ever had?”

“Yeah,” Trey said. “That was pretty crazy. How about you?”

She drew a deep breath. “I’ve always wanted to do something crazy. I guess attacking you on the beach was the high point for me.”

It was a decent concession, he mused. Trey certainly didn’t want to hear about her past lovers. And he didn’t want to talk about his. They’d start fresh, without a romantic or sexual past for either one of them.

“Well, maybe we’ll have to work on that,” he said. “We could always aim for something higher, don’t you think?”

She gave him a sexy smile, then popped another oyster in her mouth. “It’s good,” Sophie said, nodding at the meal.

“You know, this is the first time I’ve ever cooked for a woman. Until now my culinary skills stopped at ordering takeout and reading French menus.”

“So what else are you good at?” she asked, her brow arching up. “I mean, besides…you know…”

“I do?”

“Sex,” she said. “You’re good at sex. But I’m sure you already know that.”

“So are you,” he said. He considered her question for a long moment, trying to come up with an answer. Most men his age had at least one thing they could do well. But all the things he could list didn’t really make a whole lot of difference in the world. He could drive a race car really fast, he could ski better than anyone he knew. He was a daredevil when it came to motorcycles. He was good at blackjack and could speak six different languages. He could seduce a stranger in less than an hour. And he knew how to spend money.

“I’m good at taking care of you,” he said. “And that’s all that really matters.” He picked a cracker out of the can and held it out to her.

“I guess life really isn’t so bad on this island,” she said.

“After we get back to civilization, I’m going to take you out for a really good meal. The best restaurant in Pape‘ete. We’ll drink champagne and order the most expensive entrée on the-”

“You don’t have to say that,” Sophie interrupted.

“Say what?”

“That we’ll go out. I mean, I appreciate the gesture, but I think it would be best if we just went our separate ways once this is over.”

“Why would you say that?” Trey asked, startled by her indifferent attitude. At the least, they ought to leave the island as friends.

Sophie shrugged. “Because it’s silly to pretend. We’re attracted to each other. We’re the only two people on this island. Believe me, if there were another woman here, you’d be attracted to her, don’t you think?”

“Not if she looked like my aunt Marjorie,” he teased.

She smiled. “All right, any reasonably attractive women under the age of forty.”

“Forty-five,” Trey said. “I’ve always liked older women.”

“See. It’s just a matter of availability.”

“So you don’t think there’s something…special to this attraction?”

She shrugged. “No. Because it won’t last. My mother always said it’s the chase that fascinates men. Once a man has caught a woman, he tires quickly and moves on to another. Like my father. Once he was certain of my mother’s love, he moved on to someone else. She always said that was her biggest mistake. She let him know how much she loved him.”

“I’m not your father,” Trey said.

Sophie scooped up some beans with a cracker, then put them into her mouth. “No,” she said, shaking her head as she chewed. “But you are a man.”

Trey stared at her for a long moment, before reaching out and smoothing his hand over her cheek. Was she really that cynical? “And you’re a very special woman. There’s something very exotic about your eyes.” He ran his finger along her collarbone and let it drift down to a spot between her breasts. “And about the way your skin feels.” He leaned forward and kissed her, taking his time to tease a response out of her. “And you taste better than any woman I’ve ever kissed.”