Hungry for More (2012)

by Chelsea Scott

  “Only one key?” Bridget couldn’t keep from asking as they walked to the elevator.

  “Yeah- Tad’s sleeping on the couch.” Bridget turned to face him, a question that she couldn’t bear to ask hovering on her lips. “Until tomorrow night…” Paul continued in a husky whisper as the doors to the elevator slid closed, sealing them inside the tiny space. “I thought Mom and Dad might want to keep him…and Daddy could have some time alone with Nanny?” He peppered the declaration with a sultry kiss. Bridget forgot where she was- until Tad’s disgusted voice filled the air.

  “Ewwwww!!! Nanny, why are you and Daddy kissing?!?”

  Bridget and Paul jerked apart as though they were a couple of teenagers who had been caught making out. A fiery blush rose in Bridget’s cheeks as she tried unsuccessfully to find a calm explanation to Tad’s question.

  “We weren’t!” was the obvious lie that she blurted out because she didn’t have a clue what else to say to the little boy, but her stammers that “sometimes grownups- um-” trailed off hopelessly too. She was amazed when she looked up at Paul to find that he was grinning with amusement.

  “Tad, I was kissing Nanny because I wanted to kiss her,” he said.

  Bridget found the simplicity and honesty of that explanation astonishing. Tad made another face, but Bridget actually found herself giggling at this childish horror.

  “But Daddy, she’s a girl!”

  “Hey!” Bridget laughed. “This girl takes offense at that!”

  Tad looked instantly contrite. “Sorry, Nanny.”

  “Besides,” Paul said, as the elevator reached the right floor. “Nanny is a woman, not a girl. One day you’ll realize that there’s a small but important difference between the two, Tad.” He glanced over the top of the little boy’s head and cast a smoldering look in Bridget’s direction.

  Tad seemed to take his father’s words to heart. He pondered them seriously for a few moments until they all reached the room that Paul had booked. He slipped his little hand inside Bridget’s and gave a small tug to get her attention.

  “Yes, Tad?” she smiled, so relieved that what could have been a disaster in regards to the kiss had been averted. Unfortunately for Bridget her relief was extremely short lived.

  “Nanny, are you going to marry Daddy?”

  Bridget looked to Paul to save her again, but this time he looked just as stunned as she did by Tad’s question. She didn’t want to think about why that hurt. Of course he wasn’t going to marry her! She was just the nanny.

  “No, sweetheart,” she managed to laugh for Tad’s sake. “I’m not going to marry your daddy.”

  Tad looked confused, and possibly a little bit upset. “But you kissed him, and that’s what mommies and daddies do.”

  Bridget held back a sigh. So they were back to the kiss. She hadn’t realized how complicated things might get after they picked up Tad and the real world intruded on the little fantasy world that she and Paul had created.

  “Grownups can kiss without being mommies and daddies,” she said gently. “Sometimes they kiss if they- if they are just friends.”

  Friends… that didn’t even begin to explain the way she felt about Paul, but it was probably better for everyone that she kept that little detail to herself.

  She felt awful for confusing Tad. She wanted nothing more than to be his mom, his real mom, but she knew that was impossible. Paul might want to bed her, for the time being anyway, but there was just no way on earth that he would actually marry her, as such. Maybe it would be best for everyone if she called an end to their affair before anyone got hurt?

  Of course, thinking that she ought to call off the affair and actually doing it were two different things. Bridget feared that it was selfish, but she simply couldn’t bring herself to push Paul away when he carried her suitcase into the only bedroom of the suite, clearly implying that she was staying there with him.

  Paul ordered room service while Bridget gave Tad a bath. She had to admit, it was easy to understand why the child was jumping to conclusions. The illusion was nearly perfect. It didn’t take much imagination to pretend that he really was her little boy, and that Paul was her husband, and that they were all just finishing up a lovely holiday and getting ready to head back home.

  Bridget wallowed in the fantasy while she fed her charge some spaghetti with marinara (swearing to herself that he’d have to eat something green as soon as they got home. She knew that Dixie hadn’t made him touch a vegetable the whole time that he’d been gone) and then popped him in the bath again to rinse out the tomato sauce that he’d gotten in his hair. As soon as he was dried and in pajamas, she handed him off to Paul, who had taken up the habit of reading his son a story before he went to bed.

  Tad was clearly exhausted from his exciting week and drifted straight to sleep. Bridget tucked the blankets around his shoulders and popped a kiss on his cheek- and then she went back to Paul.

  She didn’t really know what she was expecting, except for the fact that it was going to be a change.

  It was different when she stepped into the bedroom of the suite- although not in the way she’d expected. Paul certainly wasn’t being evasive or cold. The air felt heavy when she walked into the room, and his gaze seemed even more intent than usual. It was electric when he laid his hands on her skin.

  “Bridget…” he whispered, but didn’t say anything more. He didn’t have to. After a week, they were learning each other’s bodies. He didn’t ask for permission before he reached to unfasten her dress and helped it fall to the floor.

  “We have to be quiet…” Bridget whispered, as he tumbled her onto the bed.

  Paul laughed, “I’m not the screamer, sweetheart.”

  “I don’t scream!” she answered indignantly.

  “Don’t you?” He frowned briefly- and then replaced the look with a wicked smile, “Well, we’ll have to see what we can do about that.”

  She didn’t end up screaming- but she wasn’t precisely quiet either. Bridget was relieved that Tad was such a heavy sleeper! He didn’t stir while she and Paul made love for what felt like hours, or when she fell asleep in her lover’s arms.

  Of course, the good fortune couldn’t hold forever.

  “Nanny, I’m hungry!”

  Bridget blinked sleepily and squinted at the clock before finally registering the hand that was tugging on her shoulder. “Nanny! It’s time to wake up!”

  “Tad? Tad!”

  Bridget gasped, coming awake fully with a jolt as she remembered a couple of pertinent details that she would rather keep from the little boy: one, that she was in bed with Paul, and two, that she was entirely naked! She could forget about him missing the former, besides it was the latter that was weighing most heavily on her mind, especially as Tad tried to pull her out of bed.

  “T-Tad, why don’t you run and find the room service menu while I get up?” she stammered, not daring to roll over and see what Paul was doing, or whether or not he was awake yet. She pulled the sheets up under her chin. “You can pick whatever you like for breakfast.”

  “Within reason,” called a voice from the bedroom doorway.

  Bridget’s mouth dropped open a little when she saw that Paul was in fact already up and dressed. She glanced tentatively over her shoulder. Maybe she was dreaming? But no, sure enough, the spot beside her was empty.

  “I thought we agreed to let Nanny sleep in this morning?” Paul said to Tad, ruffling the boy’s head affectionately. “Lord knows, she must need the extra rest, having to take care of both of us.” Paul’s voice was husky with a double meaning that made Bridget’s toes curl. Fortunately Tad missed what passed between the two grownups.

  “Sorry, Daddy,” he apologized meekly.

  “No, I’m the one who’s sorry!” Bridget said quickly. Whatever her relationship was with Paul (and she was still confused on that score), he was still employing her to look after Tad. “You don’t pay me to lie in bed all day.”

  Paul’s throaty chuckle caught Brid
get by surprise until she replayed her words over in her head, and then her cheeks flushed warmly.

  “Come on, Tad,” Paul said, smiling and ushering the boy from the room. “Let’s see what we can get you for breakfast while Nanny dresses.”

  “Paul-” she whispered. He turned back to face her. “You should have woken me. You should have-”

  Tad had scampered off to find the room service menu, desperately in need of food by the sound of him, so Paul took a few steps back into the room, and walked over to the bed. He stroked his fingertips against Bridget’s cheek tenderly. The look in his eyes made Bridget’s chest ache.

  “Don’t be silly. Tad and I can manage for a little while, and besides, I liked being able to do something for you,” he confessed softly. “Even if it was only allowing you to have an extra hour in bed,” he grinned.

  Bridget smiled back at Paul. “Well, thank you,” she murmured, knowing better than to look a gift horse in the mouth.

  There was something so sweet and caring about Paul’s words too, something so genuine. Bridget was so used to looking after other people, putting their needs before her own and taking second place, that she had almost forgotten what it felt like to have someone else take care of her.

  Bridget nibbled a Belgian Waffle (she still couldn’t completely let herself go around Paul, even if the breakfast was delicious!) and drank a glass of juice before hopping into the shower. When she was presentable, she dressed Tad and combed his hair, and then the three of them headed downstairs.

  Chapter 14

  Paul took them across the street to walk around the White House.

  “Cody said that Grampa knew the President,” Tad said, his brown eyes wide with awe as he smashed his nose against the bars. “Is that really true?”

  “It is,” Paul nodded, “Not this President, but other ones.”

  “Was Grampa ever in there?” Tad pointed through the fence.

  “Lots of times,” his father assured him. “Your daddy used to work there.”

  “Really?” Bridget and Tad both said at the same time. Bridget immediately flushed, thinking that she probably seemed very naïve for being so impressed.

  However, Paul flashed a grin. Her reaction evidently pleased him.

  “It was just at the holidays,” he admitted sheepishly, “Back when I was still at CIA – Culinary Institute of America, I mean…they took a bunch of people on for Christmas parties and stuff. Dad was pretty high ranking in the Army, so he was able to pull a few strings. I did it two years.”

  “Did you ever meet the President?” Bridget asked, but Paul shook his head.

  “I’m afraid I didn’t even see him- but I did personally plate his rack of lamb once.”

  Bridget giggled at his sarcastic tone, while Tad simply looked confused.

  They took a cab to the National Mall and poked around the Air and Space Museum. Paul had, evidently, been planning to drag the little boy around the whole circuit, but after just an hour of exhibits, the little boy was getting cranky and tired.

  “What about the zoo?” Bridget suggested, before the child could have a meltdown. Tad instantly perked up at her suggestion- although he didn’t last long there either. Bridget rented a stroller to push him around, and he was asleep before they’d gotten past the monkeys.

  “I don’t know what the problem is,” Paul said, frowning at his sleeping son. “He only woke up three hours ago!”

  “He’s still awfully little,” Bridget reminded him, defending her charge, “and besides, I’d be surprised if he got much sleep this week- with all the excitement. Dixie tries, but with five kids…”

  Paul shuddered, as if the thought of trying to wrangle so many youngsters was abhorrent. Bridget met his expression with an affectionate smile. He was trying after all!

  “Can I get a family photo?”

  Bridget cringed as they were accosted by a souvenir photographer on their way past the flamingo pond. She was about to wave him away when she realized that Paul didn’t really have any pictures of himself with his son. “Oh, yes!” she exclaimed, deciding that it was a lovely idea. She combed Tad’s hair with her fingers, wetting down a stubborn piece with spit- and then she stepped out of the way.

  “Aww, c’mon, mom!” the photographer said in a teasing tone. “You gotta get in there too! Not a family picture otherwise.”

  Bridget went cold with embarrassment- and dread. She couldn’t bear to look at Paul’s face- until she heard his voice.

  “Yea, c’mon Bridge!” he held out his arm, “We have to get the picture of all three!”

  Bridget didn’t fight again- although she didn’t allow herself to read too much into the remark. She hurried over, reveling in the chance to pretend that Paul and Tad were really hers- while struggling to keep her thoughts from being visible on her face.

  Still, she was very careful to make sure that they picked up the picture before they left- and kept a copy for herself!

  They didn’t linger too long at the zoo. Tad only slept for half an hour, but then he wanted lunch. Paul wasn’t willing to subject himself to frozen burgers and soggy fries. He took them to a Pita and hummus shop in Alexandria and then they took a cab to his mom and dad’s.

  “Mom and Dad are great,” Paul said at the car pulled to a stop. He gave her knee a reassuring squeeze, “You’ll love them.”

  Bridget was about to point out that she knew they were great, and she did love them- she had probably seen Paul’s parents a lot more often than he had in the past four years- but she held her tongue. In the end, it didn’t matter. Tom Devoe did it for her.

  “Bridget!” Tom Devoe exclaimed, stepping down off of the porch to scoop up his grandson. “So good to see you- and Paul! We couldn’t believe it! You’re still alive.”

  “Still alive,” Paul answered sheepishly and then gave the man a hug. “Good to see you, Dad.”

  The three of them went inside the house, where Paul’s mother was sitting in a chair.

  “Look, Stephanie, it’s Tad, our grandson,” Tom said in a very slow, firm voice.

  The silver-haired lady sitting on the sofa looked up from the magazine that she was leafing through. For a moment, she looked confused, but then she nodded and repeated, “Tad” in a warm but uncertain tone.

  Tom nodded his head and carried the little boy over to her. Bridget watched the exchange with a small frown. She knew from talking to Dixie that Mrs. Devoe had been forgetting things a lot recently. Jack was worried that it might be beginning stage Alzheimer’s, although, thankfully, it hadn’t progressed far enough for a diagnosis. Still, it made Bridget sad. She turned her head to see if Paul had noticed- only to find that he was staring at her with a hungry grin.

  “Paul?” she whispered. Tom and Stephanie were distracted, fussing over Tad.

  “I think it’s time to go,” he whispered back, and then directed himself to his parents, “So- Mom, Dad…you’re okay keeping Tad for the evening?”

  “Of course,” Tom answered, “It will be a treat.”

  “Thanks,” Paul answered, “We’ll see you in the morning then…Mom, I’ll fix your special lunch.”

  “Thank you, darling,” Mrs. Devoe said and accepted a kiss on the cheek.

  Bridget followed Paul outside, flushing furiously, “And what, exactly, do you think I’m up to tonight?”

  Paul chuckled as he slid into the car that he was borrowing from his parents for the night. “Dad was in Intelligence, Bridge,” Paul responded, “I think he probably knows.”

  “I hardly think that the army has spies on us,” Bridget huffed- and earned another burst of laughter.

  “They’ve got Dixie- that’s worse!”

  Bridget decided that it wasn’t worth wondering what Paul’s family thought about his little indiscretion with “the nanny.” His opinion was the only one that mattered to her, after all. Besides, she was too caught up in the experience to give much thought to anything else.

  They headed straight back to their hotel room- where th
ey headed straight to bed. Then, after a restorative nap, they got ready for dinner.

  “Wear something nice,” Paul instructed as he laid out his own tie and coat.

  Bridget hadn’t known that they were even staying over, so she hadn’t packed a bag. Paul had done that for her, and she was mortified to discover that he’d packed her red dress. It was pretty: a simple sheath of crimson satin with a deeply scooped neck and cap sleeves- but it was also a size 14! Bridget hadn’t been able to wear it for more than a year.

  She stared at the gown for a few moments, fighting back tears, trying to figure out what she was going to say to Paul, and then decided that she ought to at least try to get it on…she was amazed when it actually zipped!

  It certainly could have looked better. The fabric was unforgiving, and it strained a tiny bit across her breasts- but it fit! She could sit down! Bridget was, frankly, amazed.

  “Beautiful!” Paul pronounced, apparently not noticing the dress was still a smidge too small. He took Bridget’s arm and led her back downstairs and collected their keys from the valet.

  “Where are we going?” Bridget asked.

  “Someplace special,” Paul replied, “The first restaurant I worked at after I got out of school.”

  The Inn at Little Washington was booked for months in advance- but Chef Patrick made special arrangements for his former protégé.

  “Paul!” the chef said, beaming as he clapped the other man on the shoulder. “It’s been too long!”

  “Thanks, Pat,” Paul responded. He awkwardly reciprocated the embrace. It might be nearly fifteen years since he’d been Chef O’Connell’s virtual slave- but it still felt like yesterday. “Sorry I can’t make it more often.”

  “Well, you stay busy,” the older man admitted with a shrug, “Listen, I heard about what happened up in New York, and…”

  Paul blanched. He wondered what Pat knew- or thought he knew- but didn’t want to go into it in front of Bridget.

  “Rather not talk about that,” he said tightly.

  Patrick gave him a funny look, but then nodded his head, “Of course.” He gestured toward the dining room, “Alonzo has your table- right by the window.”