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 in 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.”