Who Needs Mistletoe?

His gaze fixed on her lush lips. “I meant with the foraging.”

“There wasn’t any foraging involved,” Sophie replied. “Whoever decided to build the resort thirty years ago planted some fruit trees.” She knelt down on the blanket and picked through the toolbox for the pocketknife. When she found it, Sophie used it to slice open a mango. “There’s plenty of firewood over there, too. We might want to think about moving camp.”

Trey shrugged. At least he wouldn’t have to admit his failure in making a fire. It was probably just the wood on this side of the island. Wood from the other side would no doubt be easier to start. Right.

He sat down in front of Sophie and watched her score the juicy orange flesh and flip the skin inside out. She handed it to Trey and he bit into the fruit, the juice running down his chin. “Oh, God, this is good,” he said. “I didn’t realize how hungry I was. I don’t remember mangoes tasting like this.”

Sophie prepared a piece for herself and took a huge bite. “All natural, right off the tree.” She took a bite and then licked the juice off her lips and fingers.

Trey found himself captivated by her mouth. He fought the urge to lean over and taste the mango on her lips. “Look at us,” he murmured. “We’ve got shelter, food to eat. If I can get a fire going, we’ll be warm.” Trey dragged his gaze from her face and stared over her shoulder at the lagoon. “How long do you think we could survive here?”

Sophie licked her fingers, then shrugged. “For a pretty long time,” she said. “There’s enough to eat, decent shelter. Sooner or later a sailboat would come by and we’d be rescued.”

“I wouldn’t call this tarp a decent shelter,” Trey said.

“Actually, there’s a cottage on the other side of the lagoon-it looked like it might have been an office at one time-and a few fares that were probably built for the workers they were going to need. If the weather turns bad we can go over there.”

“You don’t like the house I built for us?” he asked.

She handed him another piece of fruit. “It’s a lovely house. But the one on the other side of the lagoon has walls and a real roof.”

Trey shrugged. “Sometimes, I wonder if I’d have been better off living a simple life like this,” he said. “I think I might have been happier if my life hadn’t involved so many temptations. Here, I’d eat, sleep, look for food. Give me an endless supply of books to read and music to listen to, and I could be happy.”

“You wouldn’t miss all the things the world has to offer?”

“You would?” he asked.

“I wish I had more temptations.” Sophie laughed softly. “I’d give anything to be able to go out and see the world. To breathe in all the excitement of a big city. To go to a shopping mall. Or to see a movie whenever I wanted. To go to a club and dance the night away. I wish I had those choices.”

“There are nightclubs in Pape‘ete, aren’t there?”

Sophie shook her head. “Of course. But they’re in Pape‘ete, not London or Paris or Rome. Besides, if I left, there would be no one to take care of my father. He needs me.”

“He’s an adult. Can’t he take care of himself?”

She forced a smile, then picked up another mango and cut it open. “These are good, aren’t they?” She handed him a piece, leaving Trey with the distinct impression that she didn’t want to discuss the subject any further.

He reached out and grabbed her hand, examining her fingers distractedly. “You can talk to me, Sophie. I’m the last person to judge anyone when it comes to family loyalty and duty.”

“Is that why you’re not with your family on Christmas?” she asked.

“That’s a long story.” Trey paused and gathered his thoughts. He wanted Sophie to admire him, to see him as a good person. But some of the things he’d done in his life had been awfully silly and self-centered.

“Until recently, my father disapproved of my lifestyle,” he admitted. “And my spending habits. I had a trust fund I got when I turned eighteen and I used it to move as far away from my family as possible. Going home always meant listening to my dad’s lectures on personal responsibility. After a while, I’d been gone so long, nobody even expected me to show up on the holidays.”

“But you’re working for your father now.”

“Out of necessity. I don’t have any money left. And he figured it was about time I settled down and made something of myself. I didn’t really have a choice.”

He’d never really wanted his father’s respect, at least that’s what he’d told himself. And from the moment Trey was old enough to stand up to Peter Shelton II, Trey’s mother, Carolyn, had abdicated her role as mediator in their relationship.

But as Trey began to see his life for what it really was, he realized that his father had a point. Sooner or later, a man had to take responsibility for doing something of value in the world. Trey’s first realization came when he found himself out of money, with nothing to show for it. But the second realization came just hours ago, as the plane was descending without power.

What would he be remembered for if he’d died? In a few years, no one would even miss him. He had never truly loved a woman, never had a family or permanent home. He’d be forever known as the wastrel son of a successful billionaire. It was time to change that, time to make his father see that he was worth the investment.

“When they realize we’re missing, they’re going to call your family, too,” Sophie said.

Trey laughed. “My father will probably be relieved,” he joked. “One less worry in his life.” The joke just wasn’t funny anymore, he mused.

“Don’t say that,” Sophie murmured, reaching up to press her finger to his lips. “Things couldn’t be that bad.”

“My life was planned out from the time I was born. I was the male heir to the Shelton Hotel empire. Even though my two older sisters have been devoted to the family business, my father wanted me to run it. That’s a lot of pressure for a teenager and I guess I felt I should be the one to decide. So, from the time I was about thirteen, I started to rebel. And it felt good, to see him finally realize he wasn’t in control of my future.”

“And what do you want now?” she asked, leaning back on her elbows and stretching her feet out in front of her.

That was a loaded question, a question he’d been trying to answer his entire adult life. What did he want? Right now, he wanted to kiss Sophie, to lean over and pull her down onto the blanket with him. “I’d settle for more of that mango,” he murmured.

She handed him the knife and a fresh mango and he cut off a piece, slicing it in the same way she had. He pulled a small square of flesh off the leathery skin and held it out to her. When she moved to take it into her mouth, he held it back. Slowly, he approached her lips, then ran the fruit along her lower lip before placing it on her tongue.

It was meant to be a playful gesture, but the moment their eyes met, Trey realized how easy it was to mistake the game for sexual foreplay.

His gaze dropped to her lips, damp with the fruit’s nectar. Unable to stop himself, he leaned over her and drew his tongue along her bottom lip. They were both sticky with the juice and the sweet taste was like an aphrodisiac. She licked his chin before returning to his mouth.

Sophie kissed him, her tongue slipping between his lips to tease at his. Trey held back, wanting to see how far she might go to seduce him. When she pulled away, he noticed a tiny smile curling the corners of her mouth. She took the slice of mango from his hand and squeezed it over his chest, the juice dripping down from his collarbone to his khakis.

Sophie pushed him back until he was braced on his elbows. Slowly, she began to lick the juice off his skin, her tongue tracing a tantalizing path over his chest and abdomen. When she’d licked up nearly all the juice, Trey grabbed the other half of the mango, tore at the flesh and squeezed it over his belly.

He closed his eyes, enjoying the feel of her lips against his skin. But Sophie didn’t stop there. She worked open the button on his khakis and slowly drew the zipper down. Thinking she’d stop once she finished the last of the juice, Trey reached down to run his fingers through her hair.

But she didn’t stop. Instead, she tugged at the waistband of his pants until she’d pulled them and his boxers over his hips, exposing his desire to her touch. Then she picked up another mango and sliced it open, before rubbing the fruit over his belly and his cock.