Sophie pushed up on her toes and gave him a kiss, letting her tongue slip between his lips for just a second. Though she was tempted to pull him back down on the blanket and have her way with him, Sophie fought her need for instant gratification. If he wanted her, he’d have to wait, at least until they found something more than sex to sustain them.
“Are you hungry?” she whispered, her lips still touching his.
“For you? Always.”
“No, for something to eat.” Sophie stepped back. “When we were circling the island, I think I saw some old rainwater tanks over on the other side of the lagoon. I’m going to see what there is. Meanwhile, you can build a fire and then we’ll try to catch some fish.”
“Do we have a fishing pole?”
“There are hooks and line in the bottom of the toolbox.”
“Do we have matches?”
“Yes, but using them wouldn’t be much of an accomplishment for a man so well trained in wilderness survival, would it?”
She found his shirt and slipped into it, then tied the tails at her waist and rolled up the sleeves. Sophie grabbed the plastic water jug he’d pulled from the tail of the plane. Despite having shared an incredibly passionate encounter, they were still virtual strangers. She didn’t know how he took his coffee, whether he preferred showers to a bath, or whether he slept on the left or the right side of the bed. But she was learning what made him hard with desire. And for now, that was enough.
Though he was ready and willing to have her again, Sophie thought it might be a good idea to take things a bit slower. He only had one condom left and they had the whole night ahead of them. She intended to make the next seduction last a lot longer than the first. Their gazes met and it was as if there was a silent understanding there. They would touch each other again, but next time would be much more powerful than the first.
“Maybe I should come with you,” he said, his hands braced on his hips. “I wouldn’t want you to get eaten by alligators.”
Sophie laughed. “There are no alligators on this island.”
“Well, there are probably all kinds of poisonous snakes and spiders.”
“In the water. There are sea snakes.”
“Poisonous?” he asked.
“Yes, but very rare. You have more to fear from the centipedes. They have a nasty bite. And there may be taramea and jellyfish and rori and nohu in the lagoon. And sea urchins. Although, if we find any sea urchins, we should eat them. They’re a delicacy.”
“I’ll come and protect you from sea urchins then.”
“I’ll be fine,” she insisted. “Why don’t you finish the shelter and get a fire started. We’ll probably need to boil any water we want to drink. The old fronds from the coconut palms burn really well. And you can probably find some driftwood if you walk over to the ocean side of the atoll.”
“Are you sure you’ll be all right?” he asked.
“If I get in trouble, I’ll scream and you can rescue me.” Sophie pointed to the other side of the lagoon. “Over there. I’m just going to follow the beach around. You’ll be able to see me most of the way.”
He crossed over to her, wrapped his arms around her waist and brought his mouth down on hers. It was a sudden, almost possessive, gesture, followed by a long, deep kiss. “Don’t get lost,” he murmured when he finally drew back.
“I-I won’t,” Sophie stuttered, stunned by the fierce tone of his words.
She started off down the beach, her knees wobbling from the power of his kiss. Sophie glanced over her shoulder to find him staring at her, his head cocked to the side as he watched.
In truth, she needed to put a bit of distance between them. Given time alone, she’d be able to reexamine all the details of what had happened-the way his lips felt on her breasts, the scent of his skin, the sound of his moans as he buried himself deep inside her. Even now, she got goose bumps at the thought of the two of them, naked, limbs entwined.
“Be careful, Sophie,” she muttered to herself. It would be silly to get all wrapped up in this man. Yes, they’d enjoy each other again before they got off the island. But that was where it would have to end, with a physical need that begged to be satisfied. Any type of emotional attachment to Trey would be foolish at best.
THE HEAT HAD SETTLED OVER the island as the noonday sun rose behind the thin cover of clouds. Sophie shaded her eyes as she peered across the beach toward her destination. Even though she was alone, she still felt an overwhelming connection to Trey.
They’d already shared the most intimate of acts, but it was more than just sexual attraction that had brought them together. There was a bond now, a shared experience, forged when they’d both come face-to-face with death, a thing that made the sex they’d shared even more intimate.
As she waded through a shallow channel that fed seawater into the lagoon, Sophie wondered if she ought to just set up camp on the opposite side of the lagoon from Trey. Yes, he was charming and handsome and unbearably sexy. Just the kind of man it would be impossible to forget. How easy would it be to walk away from him? Or to watch him walk away from her?
Her mind was still occupied with those thoughts when she reached the ruins of the abandoned resort. She stood on the sand and surveyed what was left-a collection of crumbling fares set back from the lagoon in a grove of coconut palms. Hidden behind the palms, she was surprised to find a small wooden cottage, once whitewashed, but now peeling with age. It had been built on stilts near the water tanks. Colorful flowering vines clung to the porch, nearly hiding the facade of the building. The metal roof still seemed to be intact, though rusty.
Sophie climbed the stairs and tried the door and to her surprise, it opened. She walked into a huge room, with sunlight filtering through the slats of the rotting shutters. It was nearly empty of furniture and the air inside was stuffy and stale.
Though Trey’s shelter was admirable, this small house offered much better protection from the rain and dampness. She walked to the nearest window and unlatched the shutters, then pushed them open. Daylight splashed across the floor and as Sophie looked up, she noticed writing on the whitewashed walls.
She opened a few more shutters and began to read. The walls had become a logbook of sorts for passing sailboats. Over the past thirty years, people from all over the world had anchored inside Suaneva’s reef and left messages on the walls.
She wandered over to a low counter against the far wall and picked through a meager assortment of canned food. She’d heard of the tradition, how sailors would trade something from their stocks, for something left behind on many of the deserted islands in the Pacific. She searched through the tins, examining a can of smoked oysters and another of beef stew. At least they’d have something for dinner if they didn’t catch any fish.
The steel water tanks were set behind the cottage in a small meadow, about fifty yards from the back door. When Sophie reached the nearest tank, she searched for an outlet. She expected the faucet to be corroded and impossible to open, but to her surprise, it turned easily. Obviously, passing sailors had taken advantage of the water supply, as well.
When she’d filled the water jug, Sophie circled around the tank to find a makeshift shower hooked up to a second faucet. But then, something else caught her eye-a small grove of trees, distinctly different from the coconut palms that grew on the island. Someone had thought to plant fruit trees thirty years ago!
She found mangoes, bananas and papayas hanging from the trees and scattered on the ground below, along with broken branches, blown off in storms. Sophie wondered how the fruit could grow in such poor soil, but as she approached, the answer was evident. The original resort owners had hauled in soil so that the trees might flourish. Squatting down, she gathered some of the fallen mangoes, using her pareu as an apron.