Summer Attractions (19 page)

Jemma had said she knew the rules of soccer, and she swore she did, but there seemed to be both a flexible freeform and yet a greater finesse in this simple pickup game played in Gabe’s old
favela
.

The men moved with such grace, the ball flashing between them so quickly Jemma would’ve lost track of it if it hadn’t been bright yellow against the dull gray of the concrete. And despite that he’d never mentioned playing on his own time, Gabe held his own with the others, swiftly stealing the ball from another player more than once and heading down toward the opposing team’s goal, his body a blur in the late afternoon sun.

“He’s really good,” Jemma observed, after Gabe’s team celebrated another goal that he himself had assisted on, more to herself than to Lina, who greeted this comment with another eye roll.

“Of course he’s good,” Lina said. “He grew up here.”

“How long have you known him?”

Lina leaned against the fence, her dark hair gleaming in the setting sun. “I can’t remember a time when I didn’t know him,” she admitted, her voice growing softer than it had all afternoon. Jemma, who hadn’t gotten a single whiff of romantic interest, tensed despite knowing better. Gabe wasn’t
hers
. They were just . . . having some fun. That was all.

“Oh don’t worry,” Lina laughed. “It’s not like that. Hard to see someone as a man when you watched him pee out the front door as a three year old.”

Jemma laughed, feeling her heart relax. The dream she wasn’t even quite voicing to herself that they could discover a deeper connection when they returned to LA was still safe. He wasn’t planning on losing his head over a gorgeous Brazilian beauty like Lina.

“We’re practically like family,” Lina continued. “So . . . just . . .
no.
”

“I thought he moved away when he was ten?” Jemma asked.

“I stayed with him for a while in LA, when I was a teenager. With Gabe and his mom. But I came back here a few years ago, opened the dance studio. I wasn’t meant to leave. I missed Rio too much.” This she said wistfully.

“It’s a beautiful place,” Jemma agreed. “I’m surprised Gabe didn’t want to come back either.”

Lina waved a hand. “Oh, he wouldn’t have. He has a life in America now. He moved on. But me, well, Rio’s too close to my soul. I tried to leave and it didn’t take.”

The game was drawing to a close, and even though it had seemed mostly friendly, Jemma could see the edge of desperation as the opposing team tried to get one last goal in. “Trying to make the score respectable,” Lina murmured smugly as one of the players made a play to sneak the ball past Gabe. He twisted his body suddenly and the player hit him like a wall, going to the ground in a heap of limbs. Someone whistled, and the game was over. Jemma looked away from where the man had fallen, and the smear of fresh blood on the dirty concrete.

“Hey,” Gabe said when he jogged over, sweat gleaming in the setting sun. She wanted to reach out and slide her fingers along his skin, but was suddenly and acutely aware of the impression she was probably giving to everyone who’d gathered.

No doubt, much like Lina, everyone who saw her look at him had a very good idea of what was happening between them. Maybe Gabe, who’d never really said a word about what the end of the Games might mean, might not want everyone to know.

“Great game,” Jemma said, resisting the urge to touch by tucking her hands behind her back.

“I’m going to be paying for it tomorrow,” he said wryly. “I don’t play that often anymore.”

Jemma wanted to tell him that he’d looked perfect, graceful and sure and effortless, but she’d caught the amused look on Lina’s face and so she didn’t. She’d already made it far too obvious how gone she was for him; no need to add further ammunition.

“Stop by the studio if you want a shower,” Lina said. “You know how to get in. I’ve got to get set up for tonight.” She said her goodbyes and went off with a different group of young women who’d been standing on the other side of the empty lot.

“Dancers from her school,” Gabe explained as he pulled on his white t-shirt. “You could go with them, if you want. I’m sure Lina wouldn’t mind if you tagged along.”

“I’m certain she
would
,” Jemma said, because she couldn’t tell him she didn’t want to leave him.

He laughed. “She’s a bit blunt, yeah?”

“Like a club,” Jemma agreed, as they started retracing their steps back to the studio. There was quiet between they walked down the narrow, winding streets, lined with brick buildings, some of the concrete crumbling with age and neglect. Weeds grew through every crack in the old, pitted sidewalk, but every few feet, someone had painted a vibrant, colorful design.

“Her heart’s in the right place, though. Came back from a great life in LA and started this place,” Gabe said, as they reached the dance studio, tucked back from the main road off an alley. He slipped out a brick in the wall and dug out the key that was hidden there.

“Isn’t that a little unsafe?” Jemma asked as he unlocked the door and let them in.

He just shrugged as they walked through the darkened waiting room through the studio they’d danced in earlier that day, and to the back, where there were changing rooms and a shower.

Jemma sat down on one of the benches and tried not to look as he shed the shorts and his boxer briefs. The mirror behind him gave her a flawless view of an even more flawless ass, and her mouth was a little dry.
Because you walked here and it’s warm tonight,
Jemma told herself,
not because Gabe is hot. You’ve seen
him
every day for almost two weeks
.
You should be used to it by now.

“I know it seems unsafe to outsiders, and
it is
unsafe to outsiders,” Gabe explained. “But in the
favela
, we protect each other. We look out for each other. If someone broke into Lina’s dance studio and stole something, they’d find themselves in big trouble.”

“With the police?”

He shook his head and laughed. “We’re our own police here.”

“You protect your own,” Jemma said softly, even though he’d already walked from the room into the bathroom and the running water no doubt drowned out her words.

His explanation helped her understand a little better why he’d been so determined to protect Nick—and then in Nick’s place,
her
. Because while they weren’t a traditional neighborhood or even a family unit, they were all still connected. And Gabe’s desire to protect people he cared about would extend to her, even if he’d never met her.

There should’ve been a part of her disappointed, because she’d wanted to believe that his need to keep her safe was motivated from a different place, but all the realization did was make it crystal clear that he was the sort of person she wanted to be with. Now,
and
in LA. For whatever time they had left in Rio, and for a long time after.

Jemma didn’t know how to make that happen, but she was determined to at least try.

When they emerged back onto the streets, dusk had fallen, and it turned out, nighttime in the
favela
on the evening of a street party was completely different than the day. Jemma could already hear the pounding, relentless beat of the samba and a distant cheer.

As they walked closer to the center of the neighborhood, the music grew louder, more insistent. “It’s a little wild,” Gabe warned, as if he’d been able to read the hesitancy in her mind. “If you don’t like it, we can go.”

The last thing Jemma was going to do was deprive Gabe of a chance to enjoy something he hadn’t gotten to experience in years. And the truth was, she was determined to enjoy it herself.

The center square of the
favela
was blocked off by cars, speakers mounted on the hoods of cars and in the beds of pickups. Lights were scattered through the edges of the square. There were long tables of food on one side of the square, the medley of dishes making it obvious as they passed it that it was a neighborhood effort. And the middle of the square? It writhed with dancers, every body moving to the booming rhythm as though they’d been born to it.

Gabe reached over and grasped her hand, giving her a reassuring squeeze. “Do you want to eat?” he asked. “A drink?”

The other side of the square was one long makeshift bar, the older women and young boys all mixing up drinks for anyone who had a few
reals
. With the bloom of nerves in her stomach, Jemma pointed to a table and they stopped in front of it. A few words of Portuguese exchanged and a few bills, and he was giving her a plastic cup that gave off a strong aroma of alcohol when she held it to her lips.

It was even stronger on her tongue, even a few swallows of the fruity liquid burning their way to her stomach.

Gabe deposited her at an empty table with their drinks, and went to get food.

Jemma sat and sipped her drink slowly because she didn’t want to get drunk exactly; she was searching for that dreamy, assertive, embarrassment-free state she’d achieved that first night in Rio.

Gabe returned a few minutes later bearing a plate loaded with a bunch of different types of food. “Here,” he said, placing the plate between them, “you need to eat something.”

Glancing up into his dark eyes, the flashing lights reflected in his irises, she didn’t know if it was the booze or their ticking time talking, but she wanted
more
. She didn’t want him to be kind and solicitous, concerned for her safety, she wanted him as out of his mind as she was; she wanted him desperate and needy. For her.

She took another sip of her drink, feeling the alcohol burn its way down her throat. It felt good. Freeing, almost. Like she could stand up and take his hand and lead him to the dance floor and show him everything he made her feel without a single worry that he might think it wasn’t enough.

Shaking her head at the food, Jemma pointed to the dance floor, the music reaching a crescendo of noise that meant talking was nearly impossible.

Good
, she thought savagely,
I’m done talking.

She stood up, just like she’d imagined in her fantasy, and held out her hand. Her insinuation, she knew, was very clear:
come dance with me.

Gabe sat there dumbly, clearly surprised at her invitation. He was probably remembering that first night, when he’d had to coax her to the dance floor, and even then she’d been nervous and skittish.

Another Jemma, a Jemma of a few years ago, might have pulled her hand back and laughed it off. But Rio Jemma didn’t budge.
This
Jemma felt undeniably certain that he felt the same way she did, she just needed to show him what she wanted.

He rose to his feet, reaching out and taking her hand in his, pulling her to him. His hand coasted down her back, resting just above the curve of her ass. She trembled, the force of how much she wanted him making it hard to stay still.

There was something different about Jemma tonight, Gabe thought as they walked to the dance floor. She’d never been so obvious in her desire for him. Liquid heat filled her gaze as they locked eyes earlier, and he liked it far more than he’d imagined he would.

He couldn’t help but remember that first night in Rio, when she’d let him lead, let him take the reins and coax her into dancing. He’d liked that, back then, liked the hesitancy and growing confidence of her movements as she’d gotten comfortable with the idea. Liked that she’d known he was trying to wiggle out the inevitability of them sleeping together.

But tonight? He loved the confidence and certainty in her face and her body, how she
knew
he wanted her, and wanted him to show her just how much. It was heady and intoxicating, even more than the rum in their drinks.

So he showed her, grasping her body, his fingers tracing the curves of her waist and hips, letting the tips brush underneath the fabric of her tank top. Her skin was hot and damp with sweat, but so soft he wanted to fall to his knees and taste her.

He stayed upright though, enjoying too how assertive she’d gotten, tossing her hair back, and moving her body against his like they weren’t surrounded by a few hundred people. Even during that first night, she’d held back, but there was something unleashed about her tonight, as if she’d finally let that wild part of her free. And
god
, he loved it. It reminded him of his own emotions that he’d caged so tightly over the years, both for his job and for his personal life. But tonight, her desire was calling to his, luring it right out of its cage. Gabe slid his hands up and down her hips, pulling her in even closer to him, the gorgeous curve of her settling right against his hard dick, and he knew he wasn’t in control anymore.