Hungry for More (2012)

by Chelsea Scott

  Paul didn’t stop to think why he would want a woman who was so fickle. He only conceded that he did. He had to get her out of his head- or win her back. He couldn’t live with anything in between.

  Chapter 18

  “…Bridget? Tad? It’s Paul…I’m calling from the airport. I should be home sometime tonight…”

  Bridget set down the water bottle that she was drinking out of and stared at the answering machine, barely believing what she’d just heard.

  Paul had been gone for over a month- and he was simply going to show up now?

  She listened to the message again, unable to believe that she’d heard it right, but she had. Still, she shook her head in amazement. Tad was going to be so happy, but she hadn’t quite worked out how she was going to feel.

  Bridget drank the rest of her water. She was tired after her run, but also proud. She’d just worked her way up to a mile and a half. It nearly killed her, but she’d managed. A step on the scale that morning showed that she’d lost nearly twenty pounds since Paul went away. She wondered what he was going to think.

  It was two days after Paul left when Bridget decided to take action. Disgusted by her binge, and tired of being the “fat girl with the pretty face” who always got left behind, she decided that she’d had enough. There was a drop-in daycare at the co-op. Tad had never been there before, but she enrolled him and vowed to attempt some walking every day. She started with a brisk stroll around the block (which left her winded), but increased a little more each time. She also dragged Tad to Barnes & Noble. She got him a pair of Dr. Seuss books and a diet manual for herself.

  Making the changes weren’t easy. It was torture throwing out her entire supply of Galaxy chocolate, but she promised herself that it would be worth it. Surprisingly, it was. She felt proud when she was able to circle the block at a brisk walk without losing her breath, and prouder still when she managed two. It became a little easier to push the chocolate biscuits away before bed after she had eaten a sensible dinner with Tad. She stopped worrying as much about what people must think as they saw her stretch-pants-covered body bobbing down the street.

  Despite the positive changes and the knowledge that she ought to be making them for herself, Bridget couldn’t deny that the factor driving her forward the hardest of all was thinking about the look on Paul’s face when he finally got home and saw what she had done. She wanted him to know what he’d missed. She only hoped that he made it back before she left on her date.

  Bridget smiled smugly when she thought of the plans she had that evening. She and Tad had popped into the neighborhood Starbucks one afternoon to get a cup of tea and wait out a sudden burst of rain. They weren’t the only ones with that idea, and the café was packed. They ended up sharing the table with a young architect who had been charmed by Tad- and smitten with Bridget when he learned that she was the nanny and not the mom. He was cute, with sandy blonde hair, a kind smile and fashionable glasses. He lived in Brooklyn, but was working on a building nearby. He invited her for pizza (which she didn’t eat any more) and a movie which sounded like a lot of fun. In any event, it was her first date in the last four years!

  Unless you counted Paul…

  The traitorous little thought drifted through her mind, but she shoved it away. She was trying to get over her tryst with her employer, but her mind still refused to cooperate!

  Bridget went to the daycare to get Tad, and brought him home (she felt guilty- but it was only one time!) and then went into her room to get dressed.

  It was a good thing that Paul was still paying her. Losing weight had forced her to buy all new clothes. At 5’5” she was hardly a giant. Twenty pounds had changed a lot! She had gone from a size 18 to a tight 14. She wasn’t skinny by any stretch of the imagination, but she was on her way. Bridget was determined to be a 2- or even a zero- before she was through!

  She admired herself in the mirror for a moment, noting with pride how tiny her waist looked, and how her bottom (still too big in her opinion) was now at least demonstrating a little bit of perk. Her breasts hadn’t shrunk at all. Proportionally, the C-cup looked alluringly full on her smaller frame.

  Bridget slipped into a bra and some sexy panties that she’d spent way too much on and then tugged on a brand new dress. It was a deep claret-colored jersey with a plunging neckline that hugged her figure on top, and ended in a flared skirt that brushed the top of her knees. She added a pair of tights and some knee-high boots (they zipped!) and then turned her attention to her makeup and hair. She was just spritzing on some perfume when the doorbell rang. She swore underneath her breath.

  He was early.

  “Tad, honey, get your things!” she instructed as she walked toward the door. She caught a final glance of her reflection before she flung it open, prepared to scold her suitor for being a half-hour too prompt. “You’re-!” she began- but the words didn’t make it out of her mouth. “Paul!” she gasped.

  He blinked.

  “Bridget?”

  “Mr. Devoe,” she nodded, remembering to inject the right amount of coldness into her voice.

  She schooled her expression from surprise into disinterest, but she couldn’t quite seem to stop her heart from racing, or her eyes from drinking in the sight of her employer. He looked tired, and thinner than when she had seen him last. He was still breathtakingly handsome to Bridget’s mind, but he seemed completely worn out. She couldn’t stop herself from feeling a smidgen of concern.

  “Bridget…” He croaked her name again, seemingly stuck on the one word as his eyes raked over her new figure.

  Bridget couldn’t quite contain a smug smile. This was what she had been waiting for- Paul’s reaction to her transformation. She wanted to shock him, to make him aware of exactly what he was missing, but she hadn’t dared to hope that she would render him speechless.

  “I think we have established who I am,” she said tartly. It was possibly a miscalculation on her part; Paul’s eyes flew back to her face.

  “What have you done to yourself?” he blurted, which was a question that had never featured in any of Bridget’s revenge fantasies.

  “I beg your pardon!” she hissed in outrage.

  “Have you been sick?” he frowned.

  “Are you trying to be insulting?” Bridget choked. She could feel tears pricking at the backs of her eyes, but she absolutely refused to cry again because of this man!

  “No! Of course not, Bridge, I’m just-”

  “DADDY!”

  Tad’s elated cry interrupted his father’s words. The boy had finally responded to Bridget’s earlier instruction to come and get ready.

  “Daddy, you’re home!” he said excitedly, demanding to be picked up.

  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, Daddy?” 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 n
ot 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 Daddy’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 m
outh to say something else, but lost her train of thought at Paul’s bizarre assertion. “What? Of course not! Why on earth 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!”