Summer Attractions by Beth Bolden Page A

you wanted,” he said before he could stop himself. He drifted closer, their fingers tangling back together, even though the crowds had already begun to disperse.
    She flushed again, her eyes flashing at him, filled to the brim with delight. “That’s an interesting idea,” she said, the corners of her mouth quirking up at him, like she couldn’t help herself.
    “Is interesting also an affirmative?” He wasn’t a particular fan of begging, but he might beg tonight if she didn’t take pity on him.
    Her warm gaze made a long, lazy perusal of his body, up and down, and then back again. She smiled knowingly. “No.” He bit back a groan. “It’s called delayed gratification, Gabriel,” she teased. “Now, let’s find some dinner.”

    The next few days passed in an incredibly hectic blur of activity. They went to two, sometimes even three, events per day, Jemma trying to take advantage of as many events as she could to give her the most possible material for her articles.
    In the evenings, they always ended up in Jemma’s bed, ending the day satisfactorily sated after what often felt like a full day of teasing foreplay. Gabe continued to stay the nights, and on the fourth morning as she lay next to him, his larger body curled around hers, breath steady and even as he dozed, Jemma couldn’t help but wonder if he’d come to her bed with or without the sex.
    There was a long session at the Olympics Aquatic Center that night and they’d be back quite late, after spending the whole day out and about, trying to fit in a basketball game and an archery final. She’d been corresponding over email with one of the archery coaches after witnessing a thrilling preliminary bout a few days ago.
    There would be little time for sex, not with all the events of the day and the late night, and the looming deadline for her first bigger story. She hoped that however the day’s archery final turned out, she’d have a dynamite hook for her story.
    “I can hear you thinking,” Gabe murmured into her shoulder, voice lazy with sleep. “Why can’t you just sleep like a normal person?”
    “Too much to do today for sleep,” Jemma said— or sex , she mentally added, hoping despite her more realistic expectations that he might find his way her direction tonight even without any sexual temptation.
    “What is it today?” he groaned. Like he’d been doing something much more exhausting than spending the last few days having a blast in Rio, watching athletes at the top of their game.
    “It’s the basketball game today, and that archery final. Plus,” Jemma said, trying to will away the tremble in her voice at the thought of another final Kimber was competing in, “swimming tonight.”
    “Real swimming, right?” he teased quietly.
    “I’d like to see you try synchronized swimming,” she retorted, settling closer into the warm cocoon he made. “But yes.”
    Kimber had swum in two finals now and won gold in both of them, and even though a triumphant first Olympics seemed assured, each race only seemed to ratchet the tension tighter inside of Jemma. It was so hard to watch her on the screen, a tense, lithe figure standing next to the pool, and remember what it had looked like when she’d genuinely smiled at Christ the Redeemer. Despite her gold medal haul, Jemma had yet to see that smile on her face in any interview she’d done so far. And even more concerning, her mother never seemed to be very far away, closer than any other parent or even any other coach , that Jemma could see. Mostly the athletes seemed to be insular—divided from the chaos around them, left alone on purpose.
    But Julia was never more than half a step away from Kimber’s side, except when she was actually on deck to swim.
    Jemma had told herself a thousand times that it didn’t matter; that it absolutely wasn’t her business. But with every tight, pinched fake smile that never reached Kimber’s eyes, Jemma asked herself if it wasn’t her business,