Hungry for More (2012) Read online

  The maitre’d had taken him aside to have a word (after he’d reduced a commis chef to tears) making Paul’s night even worse. So everyone in the restaurant knew that changes were afoot, did they? Fantastic.

  Paul slid his key into the lock of his front door and crept inside. He was hoping that tonight he would be able to slip straight into bed without any drama. The apartment was totally dark. It was also blissfully silent. Deciding not to turn on a light, Paul kicked off his shoes and crept quietly towards his bedroom.

  Everything was going fine until he reached the middle of the hallway.

  A curse hurled out of Paul’s mouth as hard, spiky plastic bit in to the sensitive skin of his foot. He lurched away in pain, and collided with the only piece of furniture in the hall. His hip smashed into the corner of an occasional table and another string of violent expletives left his mouth.

  Immediately, a light clicked on in the spare bedroom. A second later Miss Parker appeared.

  “What on EARTH is going on?” she demanded. She sounded faintly panicked, but Paul scowled at her angrily.

  The light from her bedroom illuminated the hall and he quickly spotted the offending item. He limped back over to it and picked it up. Then he thrust the plastic dinosaur under the nanny’s nose accusingly.

  “Oh! We looked for him for ages this afternoon!” Miss Parker exclaimed happily. “Tad was afraid that he had been left behind in the move!”

  “No such luck!” Paul spat. He was pleased when the nanny finally realized that the toy’s sudden reappearance was not a cause for celebration.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Devoe,” Bridget stammered quickly. “I hope you didn’t hurt yourself?”

  “Yes! I did! I didn’t expect to come home and find the place booby-trapped!”

  “It’s just a little toy,” Bridget whispered, but she was obviously feeling a lot less brave than the night before, because she couldn’t hold his gaze. She stared at her toes instead.

  Her bare toes…

  Paul blinked. He dragged his eyes away from Bridget’s pink toenails, but he didn’t manage to do so without traversing the nanny’s entire body. He gaze swept up her creamy white calves to her dimpled knees. He encountered her nightdress next. It was cute rather than sexy, but that didn’t seem to matter at all. Paul caught a hint of deep cleavage from the slightly askew neckline, and then, while he was trying (and failing) not to ogle the nanny’s spectacular cleavage, noticed that her nipples were hard beneath the soft fabric of her nightdress.

  He gulped. The pain in his foot and hip were forgotten. She was probably just cold, but that didn’t stop a slow unfurling of lust from seeping into Paul’s blood.

  “Mr. Devoe?”

  Paul wrenched his eyes back up to Bridget’s face. He wondered if his desire was obvious enough for her to read? When their eyes met, her lips parted for a second. Paul wondered if she tasted as good as she looked?

  “Nanny? What’s going on?”

  A small sleepy voice interrupted the moment. Paul didn’t know if he was exasperated or relieved. It would be stupid to kiss the nanny. He didn’t want to be slapped with a sexual harassment case! He couldn’t deny that he wanted to kiss her though- kiss her and more…

  “I’m sorry you hurt your foot, Daddy,” Tad yawned. He looked as though he was still half asleep. “But I’m glad you found Sir Spikespike!”

  “Appropriate name,” Paul muttered darkly.

  “I’m sorry. I promise it won’t happen again,” Bridget apologized. “I’ll put Tad back to bed.” With that, she steered the boy back into his room.

  Bridget hurried Tad back into his room, grateful for the excuse to run away. She tucked him in, set Sir Spikespike up on the dresser, and then slipped back out into the hall.

  A part of her was wondering if Paul would be waiting- if he would want to act on the impulse that she thought she had read on his face, but when she returned, the hallway was empty.

  Bridget’s cheeks were flooded with color, and her lips were tingling. She didn’t know what to think about the way that Paul Devoe had been looking at her. Her brain had seized on the wild idea that he was going to kiss her, but that couldn’t be right, could it?

  She lifted a hand to her cheek, pressing it against the heat that had gathered there. She was sure that Paul had been staring at her. The look in his eyes was dark and cloudy and electric.

  She walked toward Paul’s doorway, her hand hovering mid-air, her breath coming quickly as she pondered whether or not she dared to knock. Then she saw a flash of movement out of the corner of her eye. Turning her head to the side, she caught a glimpse of her reflection in a mirror that was hanging in the hall. With that, all of her delusions came crashing down.

  What were you thinking? Bridget asked herself as she turned to stare in horror at the sight.

  The nightgown that she was wearing had been purchased two years and twenty pounds earlier. Although it was heaven to sleep in- all soft and stretchy- it was far from flattering to her figure. She was revolted by the way the gown stretched across her hips, clinging to her ample bottom and the curve of her tummy. Her breasts strained against the fabric, stretching the deep v of the neckline, and she was appalled by how obvious it was that she wasn’t wearing a bra. The only positive that she could see (and it was very minor) was that it emphasized her waistline. Compared to the rest of her, it looked relatively trim- relatively, being the key.

  Of course Paul hadn’t wanted to kiss her. Probably, he was struggling not to throw up. All of the excitement she had been feeling soured. The excited tick in the center of her stomach became a nauseated churn.

  No one would ever want her, Bridget thought, racing back to her room. She threw herself onto the mattress and smothered her face into a pillow as her tears begin to flow. Even Richard, her ex-fiancé, hadn’t wanted her- at least not at the end. What was it that he had said? He was embarrassed to be seen with her. He felt like everyone was laughing behind his back.

  Paul Devoe was five times the man that Richard was. He was more handsome, more successful and more talented. He was famous, for goodness sakes! She had to be insane to think that he would ever look on her with anything warmer than pity!

  Feeling miserable and foolish, Bridget finally cried herself to sleep.

  Chapter 6

  I’m going to act like nothing happened, Bridget schooled herself when she awoke the following morning. Of course, nothing had happened, so that task shouldn’t be very difficult, but she was terrified that somehow Paul would know what she had been thinking the night before. If he did, she thought she would die!

  Bridget was careful to be completely dressed before she stepped out of her room. In fact, she spent so much time attempting to look as polished and as conservative as possible that when she finally emerged, she discovered that the apartment was empty. Paul had already left for work.

  Bridget visibly deflated. She should have been relieved that she didn’t have to see Paul this morning, but in fact she felt disappointed. Not for herself, she hurriedly amended in her own mind, but for Tad. Father and son were in definite need of some quality time spent together bonding. Bridget had really wanted to build on the little bit of progress that they had made the day before.

  When she went to wake the little boy, one of the first things he asked was if his daddy would make him an egg and soldiers for breakfast again. She hated the way his face fell when she explained to him that his father had already left for work.

  “We’ll make them together,” Bridget told Tad kindly, although she was absolutely terrified of cooking in Paul’s kitchen. What if she broke something? What if she used something that she shouldn’t?

  Tad had to be fed however, and she didn’t think that Paul would miss an egg, a slice of bread (even if it was homemade), a pinch of salt, and a knob of butter. She was afraid of using his saucepan, but it really couldn’t be helped unless she intended to go and buy a new one of her own. She thought that she actually might do that on her day off, just to avoid
the stress of cooking with Paul’s things!

  “Thank you, Nanny,” Tad said, as Bridget placed his breakfast in front of him. He dipped a soldier into the runny yolk. “Nanny, will Daddy cook me and Frog croak-mushyours again today?”

  “I don’t know, sweetheart. I don’t know when he’ll be coming home from work.”

  Tad nodded glumly, but he carried on with his breakfast. Bridget had a nasty suspicion that Paul would be gone all day. It proved to be warranted when the hours crept by without any sign of him.

  Deciding that she couldn’t bear to cook with Paul’s things again, Bridget took Tad out for lunch at a nearby café and then the two of them went grocery shopping.

  Bridget was sure that Paul would have a heart attack if he caught her buying frozen chips and chicken nuggets, but it was the best she could do and Phoebe had never complained.

  The whole day passed by without any sign of Paul. Bridget heard him come in at 2:00 a.m., but he was gone again when she woke up at 7:00 a.m. the following morning. Didn’t the man need sleep like a normal person? She wondered fleetingly if he was avoiding her, but that didn’t really make sense. Despite her worries, he couldn’t possibly know about her stupid thoughts the night before.

  When another whole day passed without Paul putting in an appearance, Bridget decided that something needed to be done. The following day she planned to peel herself out of bed at the crack of dawn and make sure that she spoke with him before he disappeared off to work!

  It was easier said than done. When her alarm went off at five-thirty the following morning, her first impulse was to roll over and go back to sleep- but she remembered how disappointed Tad was when he learned that he had missed his father again the previous day, and so she struggled up out of bed.

  Bridget had showered and washed her hair the night before- a habit that she had gotten into while living with Phoebe (who always complained about the noise from the pipes waking her up)- and so there wasn’t much to do except to pull on her clothes and to twist her hair into a braid. She didn’t bother with makeup. Her skin was the one thing about her body that she actually liked. It was clear and smooth and had a natural rosy glow. Sometimes she would throw on a little gloss and mascara, but she didn’t bother with them this morning. She could hear Mr. Devoe in the shower and didn’t want to miss him again.

  Paul towel dried his hair, not bothering to pat it down. The thick, black locks stuck up in all directions. He was lucky that the style was trendy. He had adopted it out of economy rather than a desire for fashion and didn’t even bother to glance at his reflection as he grabbed his keys and made a lunge for the door.

  He flung the bedroom door open and strode single-mindedly toward the exit of his flat. He wasn’t watching where he was going, and so he nearly collided with Bridget, who had stepped out into the hall.

  “Mr. Devoe!”

  He really should ask her to call him Paul, he thought briefly, before devoting his internal monologue to chanting: I will not look at her breasts. I will not look at her breasts…

  Of course, he broke the promise almost immediately. He was a little disappointed to discover that the nanny was already dressed (and, regrettably, wearing a bra), although the close-fitting turtleneck she was wearing did hint nicely at what was lying underneath.

  “…Mr. Devoe?”

  Paul blinked, and looked a little sheepish. Judging from her tone, that wasn’t the first time that she had called his name.

  “Yeah?” he asked, forcing himself to look at her face.

  That didn’t help with his concentration. Whenever his eyes locked onto hers, he was invariably struck again by just how damn pretty she was. What was a girl like that doing nannying other people’s children? He couldn’t stop himself from being a bit of a chauvinist and thinking: Why didn’t some man have her tucked away at home?

  “I was hoping to catch you this morning. Tad has been asking about you.”

  “He has?” That got Paul’s attention. “Why?” he asked warily.

  “He misses you, I think,” Bridget told him. “The sandwiches were a huge hit. He and Frog,” she grinned conspiratorially, “have been asking for them every day. I think he really wants to spend time with you. Maybe on your day off, we could all do something together?” Paul didn’t answer, and so Bridget pressed on, “Of course, the two of you could go on your own, but I thought it would be easier- the first time- if I came too until you’re comfortable with one another…so…does that sound acceptable?”

  “Er…sure,” Paul shrugged, wondering what he was signing up for.

  “Great! When is your next day off?”

  “Day off?” this time, Paul was really worried.

  “Yes,” Bridget giggled, “You know- the days when you don’t go into the restaurant.

  “Uhm…” Paul shifted guiltily from side to side. “I don’t really take days off.”

  Bridget blinked, shocked.

  “You don’t?” Her eyes grew wider when he shook his head. “Not ever?”

  “No…” he admitted sheepishly. The restaurant was open 365 days per year. He hadn’t missed a single one- at least not completely- since the very first time that the doors were open.

  “But surely you can?” she croaked. “I mean…you’ve only just got your son- surely people could understand that you need some time to bond?”

  “I really can’t,” Paul said, feeling suddenly very weary. He didn’t know how to explain that now was not the time to stop showing up to work.

  “What are you doing this morning?” Bridget asked him. “Going in to prep? Could he come with you? I’ll keep him out of the way.”

  Paul tried not to visibly shudder in horror at the idea of a child in his kitchen. He still hadn’t forgotten the shattered breakfast plate!

  “I’m going to the market this morning,” he told her, “And then I have to work out the menu for tonight.”

  “The market?” she said thoughtfully, “Well…that doesn’t sound too bad. Maybe Tad could tag along?”

  His initial impulse was to reject the idea outright, but Bridget was smiling at him again- the lush, full-lipped smile that made him want to drag her into his arms and kiss her senseless. He didn’t want her to lose that look, and he knew that an outright rejection would transform it instantly into a pout or frown. Besides, she had a point. There wasn’t much use in having Tad around if he was never going to see the kid. The markets were a mess anyhow.

  “Okay… I guess he can come,” Paul said slowly.

  “Excellent!” Bridget beamed.

  The way that her smile affected Paul was really quite incredible. He somehow managed to tear his eyes away from her face and to gather his thoughts.

  “We really need to leave now though. The best produce goes fast,” Paul said, glancing anxiously at his watch.

  “Okay, I’ll wake up Tad. Do we have time for breakfast?”

  “No,” Paul whimpered, shifting his weight agitatedly from foot to foot and already regretting his agreement to the plan. “I’ll fix him something special when we’ve got the stuff,” he added quickly, sensing that the nanny was about to voice some sort of disapproval.

  “Well, I suppose that might be all right,” Bridget frowned.

  “Good. Please go and get him?”

  As Bridget went to wake a sleepy Tad, she wondered if accompanying Paul to the market was her brightest idea. She didn’t want to get in his way, but she did need him to start spending time with his son.

  Tad was like a sleepy little zombie, barely opening his eyes as Bridget washed and dressed him. He stayed in his stupor all the way to the subway station. Then he suddenly sprang to life.

  “Where are we going again, Nanny?” he asked, looking around in wonder.

  “Daddy’s taking us with him to the market. Won’t that be exciting?” Bridget smiled, no longer feeling terribly eager as she was jostled and pushed about by the other passengers on their way to the train.

  “On the subway?” Tad asked eagerly.
/>   Paul had just returned with tickets. “Yeah, on the subway. Come on guys, there’s a train leaving in one minute!” He ushered them through the barriers and started walking at a blistering pace.

  “Mr. Devoe!” Bridget called, having to shout to be heard over all the noise. “Tad can’t walk that fast!”

  Paul solved this problem not by slowing down, but by scooping Tad up and carrying him on his hip. To Bridget’s surprise, Tad let out a little laugh of glee, and then to her even greater astonishment, Paul reached back and grabbed her hand so they didn’t get separated.

  He must really want to catch this train! She thought to herself. She tried not to notice how strong his grip was, or the way it was making her whole hand tingle.

  Paul just made his train. It was crammed full of people, but he managed to find a seat. He instructed Bridget to take it and then popped Tad onto her lap.

  “Isn’t this cool, Nanny?” Tad asked, twisting so that he could see out of the window.

  Bridget smiled and nodded, embarrassed that she was out of breath.

  Paul wasn’t paying them the smallest bit of attention now. He was staring intently at a piece of paper that he’d pulled out of his pocket, muttering under his breath and making marks with a pencil.

  Bridget noticed a few of the other commuters give him a second glance as though they recognized him from somewhere, but he didn’t encourage any of them to say hello. She was faintly exasperated that he couldn’t even spare Tad some attention, but the subway was very noisy and crowded. She decided to wait and see how he did at the market before she made a fuss.

  As soon as they came out of the tunnel on the other side of the Hudson, Paul got out his phone. Bridget couldn’t make out who he was talking to, but she felt sorry for whomever it was. At least sixty percent of the conversation consisted of angry swearing which she hoped that Tad wouldn’t try to repeat!

  “Why the…do I have to tell you every… thing to do. You and the other little lazy…in the kitchen ought to be …your pants right now, because when I get in this afternoon all of you … are…”