Hungry for More (2012) (22 page)

Bridget watched
Paul grin broadly and scoop Tad
up into his arms.  She tried to tell herself that she
wasn’t
jealous of a four-year-old.

“Hey there, kid,” Paul smiled.  “I think you’ve grown since I saw you last!”

“Do you really think so,
D
addy?” Tad asked, pleased.  He twisted in his father’s arms, and glanced at Bridget.  “Nanny, I won’t have to go to the babysitter now.  Daddy can look after me,” he said eagerly.

“Babysitter?” Paul frowned, just as Bridget gasped and looked down at her watch.  She had completely forgotten about her plans.  “Why is Tad going to a babysitter?”

“Because Nanny is going on a
date
,” Tad supplied helpfully.

It was exactly what Bridget wanted Paul to hear, but instead of the smug satisfaction that she had expected, she felt guilty and almost as though she had been caught cheating.

“A date?” Paul looked at her.  His face was pale.  He looked stricken. 

If only he could have continued to look hurt without losing his temper, things might not have escalated the way that they did.  Paul was Paul however, and blind rage was never far off when he was upset.

“I suppose
that’s
why you’re all tramped up this evening then?” he snarled.  “For
him
?”

“Well certainly not for you!  And I am not
tramped up
!” Bridget gasped. 

“He’s the one who’s got you crash dieting too I bet?”

Bridget was outraged.  “I’ve worked
hard
to lose this weight!”

“For him?” Paul sneered.

“For myself!”

“Why are you fighting?” Tad interrupted anxiously.  Paul was still holding him, but both adults had completely forgotten his presence.  “Aren’t you
happy
D
addy’s come home, Nanny?” he sniffed.

“I think the answer to that is obvious,” Paul snorted.  “Clearly she and
her boyfriend
have enjoyed having the run of the place.”

“You’re disgusting, do you know that?” Bridget hissed, plucking Tad out of his father’s arms.  She carried the little boy off to his bedroom, giving them all the much needed chance to calm down.

Paul watched them go, feeling as though someone had just reached into his chest and ripped out his heart.  Bridget had already replaced him.  That was it?  No second chances, no
nothing
?  Would she change her mind, if he could just convince her that he was going to make a name for himself again, or were they really over?

The doorbell rang, halting Paul’s torturous thoughts.  He was already reaching automatically for the door handle before he realized who was going to be on the other side: the New Boyfriend.  He froze.  The bell rang again.  Paul’s desire to punch this man in the face climbed a fraction higher.

He glanced over his shoulder, but surprisingly Bridget wasn’t racing down the hall to see her lover, which gave Paul his window of opportunity.  He opened the door, sickly curious to see what sort of man Bridget had replaced him with.

It wasn’t a pleasant revelation.

Bridget had definitely been in the market for an upgrade, and to Paul’s mind she’d got one.  The man (clasping a huge bunch of flowers) was probably ten years younger than Paul, and consequently much closer to Bridget’s own age.  To add insult to injury he had a disgustingly boyishly handsome face that Paul
knew
women went for; he didn’t even look like he was strapped for cash to make things marginally better.

“Ugh- hi?” he said uncertainly.  “I’m here for Bridget?”

For a second Paul considered telling the guy that Bridget wasn’t here, but she would no doubt appear any second and prove him to be a liar.  So he went one better.

“I’m sorry.  Bridget’s not able to go out tonight.”

“What?  Why not?  Is she okay?”

“She’s fine.  She just-”

“James?”

Hearing Bridget breathlessly call another man’s name threatened to push Paul over the edge.

“Oh
,
James!” she gushed when she saw the flowers.  “Are they for me?  They’re beautiful!” she giggled.

“
You’re
beautiful,” James grinned.  Paul clenched a fist, ready to strike.  “You look gorgeous.”

Paul looked at Bridget again.  She
did
look beautiful and gorgeous and radiant and a hundred other things, he would never think she didn’t, but she didn’t look like
his
Bridget.  Their eyes met, and for a second he thought he saw an answering longing reflected in her eyes, until she looked away and turned all of her attention on James, thanking him for the compliments.

“Are you still ready to go then?” James asked with a nervous glance at Paul.

“Yes, of course!  I can’t wait!”

“You’re not going!” Paul barked, unable to stand this a second longer.

“What?” Bridget gasped.  She looked furious.  “What right-!”

“Last time I checked it was me who paid your wages, Bridget.  So unless you want to start looking for a new position tomorrow I suggest you stay here and do your job tonight!”

“Hey, wait a second!” James interjected.  “That is completely unfair- and possibly illegal!  Bridget works harder than anyone I’ve ever known looking after
your
child!”

Paul didn’t need James telling him how hard Bridget worked.  He knew!  But hearing him defend Bridget, seeing Bridget’s grateful glance at the other man- made him sick.

“Fine.  You know what
-
fine.  Do whatever the hell you what, Bridge.  At least if you go I can quit bankrupting myself in an effort to pay your exorbitant salary!”  With that, Paul turned on his heel and stalked off to his kitchen.

He prayed, rather than expected, that Bridget would choose him over her blond Adonis.  If it was a straight choice between him and James, Paul was sure the younger man would have him beat,
but
he had the added leverage of Tad, and that gave him a small sliver of hope.

He rooted through his cupboards in search of a stiff drink.  He pulled out a bottle of Scottish malt whiskey and poured himself a glass.  He had just downed the
liquor
in one gulp when Bridget stormed into the kitchen.

“Who do you think you are?” she screamed at him, shaking with anger.

Paul stared at Bridget for a moment.  He was astonished that she was actually there
.
Did that mean she had got rid of James?  Did that mean he still had a chance?

“ANSWER me!” she shouted.

“Are you sleeping with him?” Paul asked bluntly.  The jealous fear that she had been with the other man was eating away at him like acid.  He didn’t know how he would cope if the answer was yes.

“That’s none of your business!” Bridget hissed. 

She looked appalled, but Paul had reached the end of his tether.  He slammed his glass down on the countertop and rounded on Bridget.  “
You
are my business,” Paul growled, allowing his gaze to rake possessively over her body. 

Bridget didn’t anticipate his kiss, and so she made no move to resist it.
Paul’s mouth came crashing down
and
her lips responded greedily.  She dug her fingers into his hair, grasping tightly, cruelly, as they both tried to punish one another.

Bridget didn’t feel like she was being punished.  She felt properly alive for the first time in weeks.  She knew that she shouldn’t allow this.  She knew that she was only a convenience as far as Paul was concerned.  She couldn’t push him away though.  He tasted so good and she wanted him so badly.

She whimpered as Paul kissed a trail of heavy, possessive kisses down the column of her throat.  He tugged down the top of her dress to allow her lace-clad breasts to spill into his waiting hands.  Bridget couldn’t help holding her breath, wanting to see if Paul approved of her new underwear any more than the rest of her new look and clothes.

His dark scowl was a little frightening.

“You were wearing this for him?”

“No!” Bridget gasped.  A straight denial seemed safer than trying to explain to Paul that she enjoyed wearing pretty sexy things for
herself
.

She noticed Paul’s face for the first time. His initial burst of temper was fading. Now he simply looked pained. That didn’t make sense to Bridget.  Why did he
care
?  “He’s never going to see you like this again,” Paul declared fiercely.  “You’re mine!” he growled.

“Yours?” Bridget rasped. “Why does that matter? You don’t want me!”

“Don’t want you?” Paul actually stopped what he was doing. He dropped his hands away from Bridget’s shoulders, letting them slide down to her waist as he stared in disbelief. 

Bridget turned her face away as a few hot tears managed to slip down her cheek. “I’m convenient,” she sniffed. “That’s what you said!”

“I said you were convenient?” Paul blurted, shocked. “What?
When
?”

“Well…it was implied,” Bridget told him. “When you fired me…before you went away.”

Paul blinked several times, trying to make sense of what was going on. Bridget thought that he had rejected her? But that wasn’t the case! He would have remembered. “You pushed
me
away that night!” he reminded her. “After I lost my job, you didn’t want to keep up our…whatever this is…”

“
Was
,” she said quietly, but still managing to pierce Paul’s heart. “And of course I did, but you were so-!”

“You
did
?” Paul interrupted.

Bridget frowned, “Of course, but you were so angry, you said that I-!”

“You didn’t dump me because I got fired?”

Bridget had opened her mouth to say something else, but lost her train of thought at Paul’s bizarre assertion. “What? Of course not! Why on
e
arth would I do that?”

“But…I thought…”

“You
screamed
at me that morning- and Tad too! Paul, you basically said that I was your whore!”

“Damn!” he muttered, as realization settled in. He couldn’t even remember what he had said to Bridget
. He lost his temper in the kitchen so regularly that he had quit bothering to keep track of what he said. As soon as the debris from the explosion settled, everyone moved on. The people who worked for him for more than a few days always knew better than to take his words to heart. He assumed that Bridget was the same.
Stupid move
, he realized. From the look on Bridget’s face, his fit had been
bad- worse than he had
initially
feared, apparently. “Bridget- please believe me! I would never-! I never thought-! I just…when I lose my temper I just scream things I don’t mean. It’s a habit I got into in the kitchen! I never imagined-!”

“It doesn’t matter,” Bridget shrugged.

Paul frowned, “Of course it does!”

“No,” she shook her head, “It was ridiculous…I just wouldn’t see it. A man like you with…with someone like
me!”

Paul took a moment, trying to figure out whether Bridget was insulting herself or
him
. He decided to play it safe.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“Just that- you’re
you
! Even when you lost your job, you’re still a famous chef! You’re talented and handsome and brilliant and I’m…”

“You’re?” Paul prompted, knowing already that he wasn’t going to like what Bridget had to say, but needing to hear it for himself. “Tell me.”

“Just…
me
,” she said with a despondent shrug. “Plain, boring, useless, fat Bridget.”

Despite having prepared himself for the words, Paul took them badly. His expression blackened. “How can you possibly think that?” he growled. “You’re
perfect
, Bridge! You’re the center of Tad’s world- fun and loving…and beautiful!”

“Maybe
prett
y
ish
now…” she conceded quietly, wondering why it hurt to hear those words from Paul only now that she’d spent the last month starving.

Paul slipped his finger up under her chin and made her meet his gaze. “You were always perfect,” he assured her, looking so earnest that she almost believed him. “I loved your body, exactly how it was. I loved…”

Bridget held her breath as he let his voice trail off. Was he actually going to say-?

“Nanny! You’re still here! Are you and
D
addy still fighting?”

Bridget and Paul both whipped their heads around to the
sight
of Tad standing in the doorway.

“Nanny? What happened to your shirt?”

Bridget and Paul both jumped in surprise.  Bridget scrambled to make herself look decent, muttering something under her breath about a spill.  She felt as though her cheeks were on fire.