Hungry for More (2012) (20 page)

Things hadn’t been right at the restaurant for a long time. Now that he had made the break, Paul could look back and notice how his enthusiasm had slowly guttered and died. His association with
Chatterly’s
reminded him of nothing so much as the end of his marriage to Phoebe. He had entered into the whole experience with enthusiasm, thinking it was
supposed
to make him happy, but things had never been a perfect fit. He was disenchanted, and then annoyed and slowly estranged until things finally reached their tipping point.

However, just because Paul acknowledged that his breakup with the restaurant had been a slow train coming,
it
didn’t mean that he fought down his vindictive streak.

The New York Times
had
been by to review the day after he left, after all- and the reviewer
did
owe Paul a favor. He made a quick call, pleased to discover that the story hadn’t gone to press, and aired his concerns about the “management” and “hygiene” issues in the kitchen. He couldn’t
wait
to get the paper on Sunday! His actions might have been vindictive, but at least they made him feel in control again.

It was almost five
p.m. by the time
Paul caught a cab and headed back to Central Park West. The streets were jammed with cabs, and the sidewalks were equally mobbed with people trying to get home from work. It
had been
years since Paul had been on the streets at this time of day, and he watched the throngs with fascination.

The cabbie laid on his horn at a bottled
-
up intersection and muttered an apology along with a curse.

Paul shrugged indifferently. Earlier that day he would have been infuriated by the delay, but now he was feeling much calmer. His urge to fight had, for the time being, been sated. Now he just wanted a nice warm shower and bed-
with Bridget, of course.

He smiled at the memory of his nanny. He had only seen her for a second that morning on his way back from the restaurant, but he remembered how pretty she had looked in her simple jeans and clingy sweater. Of course, he’d been furious at the time. He was in such a blind rage that he had no idea what he’d screamed at her. He had a vague recollection that he told her she was fired- although, of course, he hadn’t meant it. He yelled that at his
commis
all the time. He had just lost his temper, but Bridget was going to make everything better. She would hold him and tell him that he was absolutely right about the situation- that what the partners had done was outrageous, and that they were going to be sorry in the end, and then she’d comfort him.

Paul glanced at the clock on the dashboard, wondering how long he had to wait until Tad could be tucked in
to
bed. A nice night curled up next to Bridget would set the world to rights again.

When Paul got home he could hear that Tad and Bridget were playing a game in the boy’s bedroom, but he wasn’t quite feeling up to facing either of them just yet.  He knew he owed them both an apology for the way he had behaved earlier.  Paul was really bad at apologies though, which was primarily because he never bothered with them.

He was never in the wrong.

Well… never
usually
in the wrong at least.

He was certain he had yelled at both of them, although his memory was still hazy as to exactly what he had shouted.  Maybe an apologetic
gesture
would go down better than a verbal apology?  People were always spouting on about actions speaking louder than words!

Paul shut himself away in his bedroom, smiling to himself.  He already knew
exactly
how he would make things up to Bridget.  As for Tad… well, they
had
been talking about buying him a fish tank.  The three of them could go out the next day and pick out an aquarium and some fish.

Paul took a shower and changed into some clean clothes, ignoring the nagging little voice that was whining and arguing that he wasn’t making an “apologetic gesture” at all; he was trying to
buy
his son’s forgiveness.

It was getting late however, and Tad would be going to bed any minute.  Paul didn’t want to excite or upset the little boy before he went to sleep, so he stayed hidden in his own room for the time being.  Maybe he could ask Bridget for her advice?  She always knew just what to do.  His lips curled up into a smile when he thought about Bridget.  Soon, very soon, he would let himself go to her.

Paul waited until he heard Bridget leave Tad’s bedroom and walk down the hall towards the kitchen.  The anticipation was killing him, but he gave her another ten minutes.  Some
times
Tad decided that he needed an extra hug, or a glass of milk, or the monsters scared out from under his bed, before he fell asleep properly.

Once Paul was as sure as he could be that Tad wasn’t going to be creeping out of bed tonight, he went in search of Bridget.  She was in the kitchen, wiping down the counter tops, which were already gleaming.  He couldn’t imagine letting anyone else potter about in his kitchen, but watching Bridget moving around in his private space was actually a turn
-
on.

She hadn’t noticed him yet, and Paul meant to surprise her
.
A
s she put some clean cutlery away in one of the drawers he sidled up behind her.  He slipped his hands around her body.

Bridget gasped and stiffened.  Paul chuckled huskily, and continued paying his attentions.  He
really
wanted to just bend her over and peel down her jeans. He was just about to follow through on that desire when Bridget wrenched herself out of his grasp.

“What are you doing?” she demanded, cheeks flushed, fingers toying nervously with the necklace that she was wearing.

Paul’s harsh frown returned.  “What do you think I’m doing?” he snapped, covering his embarrassment, and
hurt
, with anger.  Bridget had never pulled away from him before. 

“I don’t know,” she stammered, and then her eyes took on a hollow, flinty look that Paul didn’t like one bit.  “But then you aren’t sleeping with me for my brains,” she hissed, folding her arms across her chest defensively.

“Bridget!” Paul’s eyes bulged out of his head.  “What are you talking about?”

“Earlier!  You said-!”

“Earlier?” Paul interrupted, and then his frown darkened.  “This is about earlier?” 

About him getting fired?  Didn’t Bridget
want
him now she knew?  He would never have believed that of her,
but he was instantly reminded of his ex-wife. Status was everything to Phoebe. Perhaps he had misjudged Bridget?
  Now that he wasn’t Mr. Head Chef of Chatterley’s anymore
she didn’t want to let him touch her?

“I see,” he said stiffly.

“
You
see?” Bridget sniffed.  Her bottom lip trembled dangerously. “Well I’m glad one of us does!” she cried, and then she ran out of the kitchen and made a break for her room.

A part of Paul wanted to chase after her; the part of him that couldn’t bring itself to think so badly of a woman he had come to care for as much as he cared for Bridget.  But another part of him, perhaps the part that remembered Phoebe, wasn’t about to let him be taken in by another manipulative woman. 

Paul slunk back to his room, feeling dirty and unsettled. Had he really misjudged Bridget so badly? If that was the case, why was she currently sobbing in her room? She had closed the door and the sound was muffled, but it was still obvious that she was crying. It didn’t make any sense. Then again, that seemed to be a theme in his life jus
t about now.

A voice in the back of his mind warned him that he wasn’t being fair. He
was
harsh with Bridget when he first returned from the restaurant. Surely that was a more rational explanation for her behavior? He knew that he should march into her bedroom and talk this out before things got worse, but he wasn’t in the mood for talking. He wasn’t in the mood for anything other than licking his wounds and brooding about his shattered future.

Suddenly exhausted, he sank down onto his bed. He’d
take care of
it tomorrow. Everything
had
to look better then.

Chapter 17

“Nanny? Nanny, wake up!”

Bridget resisted the little voice and insistent tug on her shoulder for as long as she could. Despite the fact that grey morning sunlight was streaming through her windows, she was exhausted. She had lain awake for hours, reliving the horror of the afternoon. Sleep, when it came, refused to offer any refuge. She dreamed about being in Paul’s bed, but with a nightmare twist. He was laughing at her.

“Nanny?”

“In a minute, Tad!” Bridget said tightly. She didn’t want to speak harshly to the child- not after what Paul had done the day before- but she couldn’t pretend to be pleased that he had woken her up. She wanted to avoid the day for as long as possible.

“I’m hungry,” he whined, finally goading her into action. She reluctantly peeled herself out of bed and allowed herself to be dragged into the kitchen, pausing only long enough to throw on her robe and catch a glance of her disheveled appearance in the mirror over the dresser.

She looked like hell- which was apt, since that was how she felt. Bridget dreaded facing Paul. Then again, why should it matter how she looked around him? He had made it abundantly clear, after all, that their relationship was about his convenience, rather than any actual attraction to her.

Bridget tried to pretend that realization didn’t hurt and steeled herself for meeting her employer. She expected him to be hanging around since he didn’t have work. She was surprised when the apartment was empty.

“Daddy’s gone,” Tad said in a tiny, frightened voice. “I went in his room first, but it was empty. He left a piece of paper
on the table. There were lots and lots of words on it
.”

Bridget’s head snapped around at the child’s words. “
What
?”

“In here!” Tad tugged her toward the kitchen, where she cringed to find a mess strewn across the counter. Tad had, apparently, tried to serve himself breakfast before waking her. A barstool was pulled in front of the open refrigerator and cereal was strewn across the floor. “I couldn’t reach the milk,” Tad admitted sheepishly.

Bridget bit her tongue. Tad was too upset already to withstand a scolding. She closed the fridge door and replaced the barstool, then stepped over the rest of the mess so that she could pick up the note:

Miss Parker,
it began in a cool tone.

Have gone to inquire about employment possibilities. I include my check for last week and this week’s wages, along with a sum for any expenses you may incur on behalf of my son while I am away. If
Atherton
’s needs exceed this amount, please provide receipts for reimbursement.

I will advise you if my travel plans are extended.

-P. Devoe

Bridget dropped the note, feeling as if she’d just been slapped. From its tone, Paul could have written the note to a stranger- and not even a stranger that he
res
pected-
submit receipts for reimbursement
indeed!

“What is it, Nanny?” Tad asked, munching on a bite of Rice Krispies now that Bridget had finally provided the milk.

“Nothing,” she muttered, and then corrected herself. Obviously, Tad deserved to know what was going on. “Your daddy had to go on a trip…it’s just you and me for a while. Do you think you can babysit me for a whole week?”

“Nanny!” Tad giggled, but then nodded his head, “Don’t be naughty or I’ll tell
D
addy!”

“I won’t be,” Bridget responded, trying to hold the smile that was frozen on her face even though she wanted to cry at the thought of what Paul would think if Tad reported her. “Come on- eat up…if I’m very good today you can take me to the zoo.”

Tad hurried through his cereal and then allowed Bridget to wash him and put on his clothes. They had a busy day. The trip to the zoo was cut short by rain. Then they came home and played Candyland until time for supper.

Bridget was feeling lazy- and rather sorry for herself, and so she decided to order Chinese. Tad would only eat dumplings and plain fried rice- which meant that she had ordered way too much. She looked sheepishly at the pints of General Tso’s chicken, shrimp with garden vegetables, pepper steak and large fried rice. She half-considered throwing them away, but didn’t want them to go to waste. She could heat them up for dinner tomorrow, she told herself- only, she didn’t wait that long.

Bridget put Tad to bed, and then found her feet carrying her back to the kitchen, her hands reaching automatically for the fridge.

It was a few weeks now since she had ventured in here late at night. Paul had been keeping her busy. Caught up in her new romance, she had her eating on track for the first time in as long as she could remember. Her jeans were falling off her hips. Surely she was due a little splurge? The chicken had been so good…