Hungry for More (2012) (6 page)

“Shall I call him in?”

“Yeah.
Please…” Paul said, distracted as he fooled around with a different pan. Bridget left him while she went back to the living room to collect her charge. She took Tad to wash his hands and then led him back to the table. Paul was just loading down the plate with a pile of sizzling homemade potato chips.

“Here you go,” Paul said, sounding hopeful as he sat the dish in front of his son. “I kept it simple this time.”

Bridget bit her lip as she waited for Tad’s reaction. She silently prayed that it wouldn’t be as bad as breakfast! She didn’t want to repeat that disaster again.

“What is it?” Tad asked, prodding the bread with his finger.

Bridget was about to reassure him that it was merely a hot ham and cheese sandwich- but Paul beat her to the pass.

“It’s a
uckish
-monsieur
,” he told his son.

As Bridget had feared, the little boy’s features instantly screwed up in suspicion and disgust.

“A
what
?”

She turned to take in Paul’s expression. His cheeks were coloring. She feared that another burst of temper was coming on. She couldn’t imagine how hard he had worked to think of
something
that the little boy would love! She was desperate to prevent the scene which looked about to unspool, and so she blurted without thinking:

“A
croak-monsieur,”
she told the little boy. “Daddy made it special for Frog.”

“Frog?” Paul and Tad both asked at the same time.

Bridget spoke quickly, desperate to smooth things over. “Yes…for Mr. Frog. Here…let me give him his plate.”

Paul looked at Bridget as though he thought she was insane when she pretended to pick a separate plate up off of the counter and then mimed setting it down in the space at Atherton’s right.

“See!” she exclaimed happily. “He
loves
it! Don’t you Frog? Oh, FROG! Don’t eat so fast- you’ll get a tummy ache!”

Tad giggled at his nanny’s feigned annoyance, and so she kept it up. “FROG! You’re getting that all over your clothes! Slow down! I’m sure that Daddy will make you another!”

“Yes…” Paul said, picking up on Bridget’s idea. “Here you go…” he pretended to sprinkle something over the imaginary bread. “I made you one with extra flies.”

“There are
flies
in croak-mushyour?” Tad said, looking wary again.

Paul looked to Bridget, his gaze anxious and questioning.

“Er…only on Frog’s sandwich,” she decided. This seemed to be the correct response.

“What
is
in it?” Tad asked, still unconvinced.

Bridget deferred to Paul.

“Parma-!” he began, but then stopped himself. “Er…
ham
,” he said, without any descriptors, “and cheese and butter and bread.”

Tad considered. “I like bread and cheese. Do I like ham,
N
anny?”

“Yes, dear,” she said, encouragingly. She was relieved when he took a tiny nibble from the corner.

She and Paul both waited breathlessly for the verdict. It was given when Tad took a second bite.

“I think Frog is right,
N
anny,” he said happily, “croak-mushyours
are
good to eat.” He turned toward his father. “May I have some flies after all please?”

No one could resist Tad when he was being this angelic, Bridget thought. Her heart felt warm and pleasantly full at the sight of the four-year
-
old’s smile. She didn’t know how a world famous chef was going to react to being asked to add
flies
to a sandwich. She was delighted when Paul got his response just right.

“I only have invisible flies,” he apologized. “I didn’t know that you’d want some…Are you sure that Frog is okay with sharing his flies?”

“Of course, Daddy!” Tad answered with a serious expression. “He’ll let you give them to me!”

Paul nodded and then pretended to put a liberal sprinkling of invisible flies on top of Tad’s sandwich. “Extra crunchy,” he told him, “Just the way that I like them.”

Tad laughed again, and then went back to eating his sandwich. He even dared to pop a chip into his mouth without prompting. “Hey!” he exclaimed, “These are just like potato chips!”

It was Paul’s turn to be amused, “That’s what they
are
, silly.”

“But potato chips come out of a bag!”

“Potato chips come from a
potato
,” Paul responded firmly.

“You should try one, Nanny!” Tad urged, tempting her with one steaming, golden-brown crisp. It smelled so good that she was practically drooling!

“Nanny is going to have her own,” Paul responded, setting down a second plate.

Bridget’s smile disappeared as it was slid in front of her. She licked her lips, imagining what it would be like to actually eat the meal: the crisp, salty slivers of potato…the crusty, buttery bread…the creamy cheese…

It took a lot of effort to push the meal away.

“I’m sorry,” she said, trying to sound as contrite as possible, “But…I really can’t eat it. Thank you for the effort but-“

“Why not?” Paul snapped. His expression was truly terrifying when he was annoyed.

Bridget shrank down in her seat. “I’m…er…”she bit her lip as she fumbled for an excuse. She couldn’t very well own up to the fact that she’d already downed two day’s worth of calories in a fifteen-minute binge! As far as Paul knew, she hadn’t eaten all day! “I’m…on a slimming regime, actually,” she told him, “It’s really tempting though.”

“
You’re
on a diet?” Paul asked. He looked honestly gobsmacked. She
had
to love him a little for that. “Why?”

She looked down at the counter, avoiding his gaze. Of course, it was painfully obvious. She was five-foot four and a size
sixteen
American
! Obviously she could afford to lose a pound…or forty.

Atherton spared her the need to respond. “Nanny never eats
anything
,” he announced, helpfully. Bridget breathed a sigh of relief, but it was too soon. Tad quickly continued, “Except biscuits! One time we were having tea and
N
anny ate the
whole box.
”

“Tad!” Bridget snapped, humiliated. She lied: “I did not!”

“Eat your food,” Paul said quietly, apparently picking up on her discomfort. “I’ll make you a salad,” he told Bridget, “Oil and vinegar dressing okay?”

“Hold the oil,” she said miserably as he took away the sandwich. A few minutes later he replaced it with a bowl of greens.

Ordinarily, Bridget wouldn’t have dared to put so much as one bite of food into her mouth when someone was watching- especially when that someone was an attractive man! However, she was feeling guilty for snubbing the sandwich, and decided that she must look like a martyr anyways, having turned down the buttery treat. Feeling painfully self-conscious, she picked up her fork and took a bite.

Paul Devoe
must
have earned his reputation as an amazing chef. This was the first time in her entire life that Bridget could say that she was honestly enjoying a salad!

She didn’t know what kinds of greens he had used. The dark, smooth leaves were unfamiliar to her, but she did recognize the crunch of bok choy that he had used instead of croutons, and the pleasant bite of a very high-quality balsamic vinegar that had been applied as dressing.

“Well?” Paul asked.

Bridget looked up, surprised to find that he was waiting on her reaction.

“It’s delicious!” she told him- and there was no doubt that she meant it. She was still stuffed to bursting from her apartment binge, but she managed to finish the salad in a shamefully short amount of time.

Bridget insisted on doing the dishes (shamefully scarfing down the leftover portion of Tad’s chips and sandwich when she was finally alone, and unsurprised to find that it was completely amazing!). When she finished, she was shocked and unexpectedly upset, to discover that Paul had changed to head in
to work.

“You’re leaving?” she asked, hoping that she didn’t sound as disappointed to Paul as she did to herself.

“I’m late,” he responded, looking stressed and distracted. “I should have been there hours ago. No telling how much of a cock up those fu-!”

Bridget looked pointedly at Tad (who, thankfully, didn’t seem to have registered the swearing). Paul looked sheepish.

“Old habits,” he muttered. “I just want to make sure the staff isn’t…uhm…having trouble.”

Bridget nodded.

“What time will you be back?”

“Don’t wait up,” Paul answered with a casual shrug. Then he was gone.

Bridget and Tad passed a busy and pleasant afternoon. First, she took Tad to Central Park, as she had promised. The apartment was conveniently close to one of the playgrounds, so she let him run and play until he was worn out. Then she brought him home to nap.

It started to rain in the late afternoon, and so she unpacked some more of Tad’s toys. She let him play with them in the living room, while she set about “perking up” his quarters.

One of the tasks that she’d seen to at Phoebe’s apartment was stealing the decorations from his old room. Obviously, Paul didn’t see any problem with storing a four
-
year
-
old in a Japanese minimalist bedroom- but she certainly did. She thought that the place looked a lot more cheerful and appropriate with Tad’s dinosaur quilt and sheets, and his triceratops rug. It was a struggle to hang the curtains on her own, but she managed. Her efforts were rewarded by Tad’s obvious delight!

Paul hadn’t thought to set out dinner, and she couldn’t think of anything to prepare with the fixings on the second shelf, so they had leftover pizza for dinner. Tad took a bath and went to bed at half past eight without any fuss at all, leaving Bridget with the rest of the evening on her own.

She spent part of the time arranging her own belongings and reading a book. Then, when the clock read one a.m. and Paul
still
hadn’t made his way home
,
s
he decided to go to sleep.

Chapter 5

It was another horrendous service for Paul.  Just as he had anticipated, none of the prep work was quite ready, or quite right, when he arrived at the restaurant.  The kitchen seemed to fall to pieces whenever he wasn’t there getting on everyone’s case.  Why couldn’t the lazy morons motivate themselves for a couple of hours?

“They’re worried about their jobs.”
 

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 viole
n
t 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 n
eck
line, 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.