Awakening to You... In Boston (Awakening Trilogy #1)

by Fifi Flowers

  The next day, after working on a few amateur architectural sketches, I decided to take a tour of the Prescott House, on Beacon Street, across from the Frog Pond. Of course I knew I would have to stroll through the park to make my way home. Unfortunately, the park was minus a certain suit. I was pathetic but I couldn’t help myself, and over the next few days, I made more excuses to pass the watering hole at the exact time I had always seen him. Nothing. No appearance. Damn. Was he gone? Was he only in the city on business like me? Was he off on vacation? With his wife… and children? He must have a wife and children. Why would he come to the pond? What was I saying? I had no kids… no reason to come to the pond, but I loved the excitement… the noise… the suit. At least I had work related distractions to keep me busy over the weekend, I thought as I left the park.

  When I got called into the theatre tonight, I was happy to go. I only went in occasionally, when performances were in full swing, since my work needed to be done while the theatre was empty. Also, I had such an amazing personal assistant, that she could handle any little task needed. Tonight, they were questioning parts of the set. There were some props that were not moving as they should. They wanted my input on lighting. They felt the contrast lighting was throwing off the dynamics. I had received some pretty strict instructs from Tamber about what he wanted in all aspects, including lighting, so I asked that they leave things as they were until I could contact him. He was one diva you did not want to mess with. Once I filled him in on the latest, I knew he would have suggestions and I wanted to keep the show in line with his visions. As I said, this was his gig; I was just the enforcer. Thankfully, Marco Zitti, the stage manager, was compliant.

  Marco and Tamber were good friends and had worked together in various theatres around the country. This Boston production was their baby, and Marco knew better than to make big decisions without the diva’s approval. I was always happy to work for or with either one of these amazing talents. I met Marco a couple years ago through Tamber and we became fast friends and, on a whim, we tossed in a few benefits that were very satisfying from time to time. Traveling could get lonely. Finding comfort in a warm body could be a welcomed treat. It didn’t hurt that Marco was a tall, dark, gorgeous, Italian man with a very fit body.

  After the performance wrapped for the evening, Marco asked me if I wanted to grab a drink or something. I knew what the something was and my raging hormones said, “What the hell?” First off, we popped next door to Abby Lane for an appetizer and a few cocktails served by an island tart who informed Marco her name was Kimee while she shoved her double-Ds in his face. That dark-skinned beauty had him going, and I was surprised he didn’t push me out the door or ignore me totally. My best guess was that he knew I was a sure bet and less of a hot mess.

  Back at my hotel room, we discarded our clothes and moved into action. There was no reason for foreplay. We had used each other enough over the years. We were always upfront and knew what this was all about. Both of us had needs. Only, this time, it wasn’t doing it for me. My mind was back in the park with Mr. Suit. I was thinking about where he might have gone. A better question might be, who was he? Was he a dad in the park?

  “Hey, Sofa, do you think you could put in a little more effort while I fuck you… maybe moan a little… a guy’s ego can only handle so much rejection,” Marco said looking down at me with a pouty look on his face, calling me by his favorite pet name for me, “Sofa.”

  “Sorry, Marco,” I replied, pushing on his firm chest to move out from beneath him. Rolling off of me, we faced each other.

  “Really? You’re not going to let me, at least, finish?” He laughed as I pointed to his semi-limpness. “Shit!”

  “I think we’ve run our course.” Laughing, I got up, pulled on a robe, and returned, tossing a menu on the bed. “This arrangement has worked great . . . until now.”

  “Room service?” he asked as he reluctantly climbed off the bed and pulled on his clothes. “Who is he?”

  “I don’t know. Probably married. I see him at the Frog Pond. Probably has kids… one of the many splashing in the pond…” I picked up the phone receiver and ordered some highly caloric snacks for us to appease our frustrations while I confessed my semi-stalking behavior.

  “Have you seen a wife and brats?”

  “No… not that I know of…”

  “Maybe he doesn’t have any. You go to that place all the time and you’re empty handed.”

  “He’s a man. Besides he’s too gorgeous to not be taken.”

  “Sofa, you are, too! Check it out next week, and maybe you should sit a little closer. I’ve never known you to be shy. You always go after what you want. If you want him, you may have to make the move. What’s the worst thing that can happen? Some crazy, possessive wife pulls you away from him.” Kissing me on the forehead, Marco moved to the edge of the bed and slipped on his loafers. “I’ve gotta go. It’s still early enough for me to take care of these blue balls.” He always knew what to say to get me to laugh. “Come lock the door after me.” I got up and followed him to the door.

  “See you at the theatre tomorrow after I hear from Tamber. Sorry again about tonight.”

  With another kiss to the forehead, Marco started walking to the hotel door. “Don’t worry about me, either my hand or that nice exotic bimbette will make it all better. Ciao.” I was definitely not worried about him. Women were always falling at his feet. I was sure he would have no problem getting Kimee to spread her lush thighs for him.

  Tossing my robe aside, I climbed back into welcomed empty bed. Well, maybe that wasn’t exactly true. I would welcome a certain business man into my bed. Hmmm… I hoped Marco was right and maybe the suit was just like me; drawn to the fun, frenzied atmosphere at the watering hole. I could swear he looked at me with longing… no, that was just wishful thinking on my part. However, I did long for him, nestled between my thighs that were now moist and throbbing. Damn. Why didn’t I put a little more effort into fucking Marco? I could’ve imagined Mr. Suit as he plunged into me. Sighing, I reached for my handy electric gadget and thought of my park man as I pleasured myself.

  Chapter Three

  Sunny, with a chance of rain, was the forecast the weatherman announced as I shut off the TV and headed next door to the theatre. I needed to put Tamber’s list into action and snap pictures and videos of the various goings on behind the scenes. Then I ironed out costume problems with the seamstress along with my ever-faithful personal assistant Lila. Good thing because Marco was a no-show; he was probably buried inside of the island temptress. Once we were done, I walked over to one of my favorite sandwich shops on Charles Street. They had amazing fresh baked bread and yummy homemade soups. I sat on a barstool by the window, eating a chicken tarragon sandwich, watching people stroll by with umbrellas at the ready. The sun was still peeking from behind clouds, so I hoped I would make it home before the rain poured down; I was without an umbrella.

  On my way home, I thought maybe I should cut through the park. Yes, pass the Frog Pond. I smiled thinking perhaps he had returned and increased my pace. As I neared the watering hole, walking down a path off of Beacon Street, my heart started thudding when I saw a man on his bench. A gorgeous, dark-haired man in faded denims, a black fitted t-shirt, and a pair of loafers. I had never seen him casual. This was a first and I silently prayed, “Please don’t let him have a wife,” as I sat a few benches away from him; closer than usual. He was focusing on his phone screen and had not looked my way.

  Not wanting to look out of place or a stalker, I pulled out my reader and attempted to read. It was no use, I understood nothing I read as I casually looked his way from time to time. I wasn’t sure if he saw me or not. Little by little, dark clouds started rolling in. Then the sky lit up and thunder boomed. Shit! Time to go! Just my luck! Craziness started; kids and parents began running for shelter under the trees. I packed up my reader and joined everyone else and I noticed that Mr. Suit was gone.

  Darting from tree to tree, I attempted
to make my way to the nearest coffee shop without getting struck by lightning. Ducking my head, I ran firmly into a wall… a wall of rock hard man and I felt myself falling before two hands reached out and caught me. The strong hands kept me from plummeting to the ground but they were unable to keep me from hitting my head on the tree trunk. A loopy feeling came over me, causing me to sway and stagger forward until I was lifted up into muscular arms. Looking up into the lavender eyes of my rescuer, Mr. Suit, I gasped and slipped in and out of blackness, hearing words about a doctor friend. Then nothing.

  Opening my eyes, I looked around an unfamiliar room with high ornate ceilings and exquisite moulding on the walls. I was in a large, foreign bed. Across the room, I saw handsome, Mr. Suit, seated in a chair, gazing at me. What the fuck? How did I get here? Then I remembered he scooped me up. Was I in his home?

  “You’re awake,” he said as he stood and approached me. “How do you feel?” He sat on the edge of the bed; just out of reach.

  Sitting up slowly, I glanced down and saw I was no longer in my clothes but in a silk robe that smelled musky and wonderful. “You undressed me?”

  I sensed he was nervous by the way he began to rub the light stubble along his chin line. “You were soaking wet… I couldn’t leave you like that. I closed my eyes while I did it…” I raised an eyebrow in his direction. He smiled and added, “I washed your clothing…”

  “Thank you.” I quietly looked at him, listening, as he began to explain more.

  “I had my friend examine you… he’s a doctor,” he clarified immediately. “He said you couldn’t be left alone. I’ve been sitting here since he left.” Reaching his hand out, he slowly motioned to the back of my head. “You have a nasty bump on the back of your head.”

  I lifted my hand and felt the lump. “Ouch!”

  “Your clothes should be dry soon. I can get you home…”

  Not thinking about what I was saying, I blurted out, “I have no one to watch me.”

  I swear I saw a glimmer of light flash in his sexy eyes. “Oh.”

  Then coming to my senses, I realized I sounded pathetic. “No worry. I will be fine on my own.”

  “No.” His voice was stern. “You can stay with me. I will watch you.”

  “That’s not necessary. You don’t even know me.”

  “Then I guess this is a good time to introduce ourselves because I insist you stay.” Putting his hand in mine, he said, “I’m Drake Blaxton. And you are?”

  Trying to control the sensations jolting through my body as he continued to hold my hand, I managed to utter my name. “Sofie James.” He smiled.

  “Nice to meet you, Sofie. Are you hungry? You’ve been resting for a few hours. I ordered some food to be delivered. I can bring it to you or you can come downstairs to eat.”

  I knew he said something about food but I couldn’t get past those eyes. Lavender eyes. “You have unusual eyes. Only one other time have I ever seen eyes that color; an upset woman in the park the other day. Do you have a sister?”

  “Not that I know about,” he said, letting go of my hand and standing. “Blaxton men have been known to stray.” Backing up he gave me room to climb out of bed and then held out his hand to me. “Come, let’s get you some food.”

  I pulled back the comforter, took his hand, and he pulled me up. Touching him and breathing was a difficult task. I needed to pull myself together. “Will your wife mind that I’m in your guest room?” He laughed softly at my question.

  “I have no wife… and you are in my bed.” One helluva sexy grin followed his words and my heart beat rapidly. I wondered if it would be out of line if I pulled him onto the bed rather than let him lead me away. What would he do if I stood and dropped the silk robe he had tied around me? He had already seen me nude. Did he like what he saw? I smiled to myself. I hoped he did. I loved the way his one hand held my arm and the other was splayed on my low back as he helped me walk down the open staircase lit by a beautiful wall sconces and a chandelier hanging down the middle for the ceiling high above. His touch warmed me to the core.

  At the bottom of the staircase, we reached the foyer and turned right to walk down a wide hallway, passing a parlor, a formal, very elegant dining room, and into a modern wood and stainless steel decorated kitchen. “Your home is spectacular. It reminds me of the Prescott townhouse . . . minus all the Victorian decor.”

  “My house is down the way from the townhouse, and you’re right; it does have similarities. Would you like to sit in the dining room or here in the kitchen?”

  “The kitchen is good.” As long as I could be near him, it really didn’t matter.

  “Good,” he said, releasing his hold on me and I instantly missed the closeness. “Have a seat.” I climbed on to one of the high stools placed around the center island and watched him intently. God, he was so gorgeous. “I ordered soup and bread from one of my favorite places; Panificio Bistro and Bakery.” He removed soup containers and poured the semi-warm liquid into a pot on the stovetop, then popped the slender bread loaf into the oven. “Shouldn’t take long to crust up the baguette.” He moved back to the paper sacks on the granite countertops. “I got us a little sweet treat.” He smiled as he removed a pastry box and dangled it by the string that held it closed.

  “Oh… I love that place. I went there earlier. I had a sandwich. I wanted soup but they were running late and apologized.”

  “Well, perfect. Now you will get to taste their soup of the day.”

  Once everything was heated, he served up two bowls and the wonderfully crisped bread with creamy, unsalted butter. We sipped the delicious, bacon potato cheese soup, facing each other. I was amazed I was able to eat while he continuously gazed into my eyes. “You said you were alone. Alone in the city? Or alone?”

  “Alone,” I said softly and waited for his response before I dared to take another bite.

  “Good,” was all he said. We finished our meal in silence. Once our bowls were empty, he cleaned up the kitchen. I tried to help, but he ordered me to stay put. I sat still and enjoyed the view. When everything was spic and span, he told me he was going to check on my clothes. Upon his return, he handed me folded clothing.

  “Thank you,” I said looking around, “do you have a powder room downstairs?”

  “Yes, let me show you.”

  Inside the bathroom, I untied his robe. It smelt so manly and felt so good against my bare skin; I would’ve rather kept it on. Looking in the mirror, I blushed thinking of him seeing me nude and a chill ran intimately down my spine. Dressed, minus shoes, I exited the bathroom, with his robe draped over my arm, and returned to the kitchen, but he was not there. I looked in dining room; empty as well. When I stopped at the entrance to the parlor, I saw him sitting on a sofa.

  Stepping into the room, I placed his robe on the back of a chair and joined him on a low profile, modern, tweed couch. Taking the glass, he posed in my direction. I settled back and turned to face the glorious man. Please don’t let this be a dream. “Thank you for helping me.”

  “It was my pleasure. Not that you were hurt but that I have your attention. That I finally have you in my home.”

  “Oh?” I questioned, looking at him, waiting for him continue. I wanted to tell him I was thrilled to be close to him, too. That I longed for him for the last few weeks, but I stayed quiet. I would let him speak first. Besides, I didn’t wish to make a fool of myself.

  “I’ve been going to the park almost daily since I saw you a few weeks ago, except for weekends. Then last week, I had to fly to Hong Kong on business. I missed you. I was happy to see you reading on a bench in the park today, when I looked up after finishing my business call. I’ve been wondering if you were married.” I shook my head no. “If you were in the park with your children?” I shook my head again. “I haven’t been able to get you out of my head. I’ve been feeling like such a stalker.”

  I couldn’t let him confess without confessing myself. “You are not the only one. I’ve been making an effort to
get to the park about the same time every day that you usually appear.”

  “Some days I would watch you from afar before going to my usual spot. I wanted to see if anyone would approach you. And then it happened. I was watching you biting on the end of your pen and I wish that…” He stopped with a devilish grin painted across his handsome face.

  “You wished what?” I could imagine what he meant but I wanted to hear it. I wanted to hear he wanted me. He desired me as I desired him.

  “Let’s just say that my lustful fantasy ended when two small children approached you. I had my answer; you belonged to someone else. Defeated, I watched the joy on your face as they appeared to tell you tales and your laughter struck me deep. It delighted me. I wished the two rug-rats were mine… ours… that I was coming to meet you in the park. Sadly, knowing they weren’t mine, I looked one more time in your direction before I trudged home. Head down, I turned away and walked to this big empty townhouse that begs for a family to occupy it. Every time I walk through the front doors I feel like it groans, ‘only you’. I commiserated with the house. I questioned why it was not filled with a wife and children. Why was there no one to greet me? I was miserable all weekend long. I drank a lot of scotch and slipped into a cold, empty, lonely bed every night and thought of you. God, I sound pathetic.” He swallowed a gulp of wine.

  “Not at all. I had similar thoughts about you. I was jealous when I saw you speaking with a woman and a child one day. I was certain you were married. I was thankful that no one approached you today. I wanted to sit on a bench closer to you to see if you would speak to me but I didn’t know if you were waiting to meet a wife, or if one of the giggling, laughing, splashing kids belonged to you. You seemed so out of place at the pond, in your suit, unless… unless you were there for your family.”

  “I imagine a business suit in the summer at the pond did look a bit out of place. I actually love stopping by the pond; it brings back great memories. As a kid, I played for hours at the Frog Pond, day after day in the summer and ice skated on it during the winter. I hadn’t really sat down at the pond in a long while for any length of time. Yes, I’ve strolled by now and again between my office and home. Then one day, I saw a vision of loveliness that took my breath away. I had to see you again. Every time I saw you, I wanted you…”