Yes, damn him. It had been pleasurable. Being pressed against that rock-hard body had almost been enough to make her forget where she was, forget the girls were there, forget there was a helicopter full of bloodthirsty paparazzi with long-range lenses. Forget everything but the warm strength of those arms around her. Those insanely full, soft lips mere millimeters from caressing hers. His tightly corded muscles bunching beneath her fingers. The soft and rough mixture of tanned olive skin with its oh-so-trendy stubble rubbing across her face.
Pleasurable enough to nearly make her forget herself. Lose control. And now it didn’t matter that she hadn’t given in. It looked bad enough. The fact she was even on his property would be enough to put her position in jeopardy. Risk the only thing in life she really loved. Her kids.
She’d wanted to be part of the Emergency Family Aid program since she’d first come to Greece and heard about it. She already had a degree in social work, and even though it was through an American university, it had given her a leg up. Finishing the training the program required so she could be a House Mother for a group of children hadn’t taken long. She’d been with her six girls for over a year. Their placement with her was meant to be permanent, and if she lost them because of one stupid mistake, she’d never forgive herself.
She sucked back a renegade sob and tried to focus on the fury coming from the phone. She’d already had one scathing phone call from her father. That’s just what every girl wants, to explain to Daddy why it looks like she’s rounding second base with the resident Casanova with six kids looking on. She had a nice, traumatic brunch to look forward to the next day as well. Apparently she’d screwed up severely enough he felt the need to cancel all his appointments and jet right over to check on things in person. Just lovely.
And now she got to go round two with her director, a nun, about the so-called steamy pictures all over the internet.
“Yes, Reverend Mother, I understand. But it’s not what it looks like…I mean it sort of is but…we were there…but the rest…I didn’t…”
She stopped, knowing she was only making it worse. She might be able to explain why she was in the man’s backyard, but the shots of her locked in his embrace were a little more difficult. It didn’t matter that she hadn’t been kissing him. Just the appearance of wrongdoing was enough. And she had been trespassing on private property with her children. Unavoidable as it had been, it was still illegal.
The Reverend Mother wrapped up her chew-out and clicked off. Constance was to report to her office the next morning for a formal meeting with the Reverend Mother, Ms. Castellanos, the head of their particular group of homes, and Mrs. Ballas, the woman who worked with Constance and helped her care for the girls. They were to discuss her actions and possible removal as a House Mother.
Constance sank into a chair. She knew the second she’d laid eyes on the glowering Greek god that he was trouble. She wished she could rewind time and listen to her gut. It had never failed her and going against it bit her in the butt every time, but what else could she do? She couldn’t have left Elena wandering about on his property anymore than she could have left the other children on their own while she went to fetch her. Of course, had that been the whole of it, this wouldn’t be an issue right now. It was her conduct with the most notorious playboy bachelor in the Mediterranean, in front of the girls, that was the issue, and rightly so. She should have shoved away from him the moment he’d gotten near her. Maybe she deserved to lose them.
The only good thing from all this was that Luca wasn’t pressing charges for trespassing. He was infamous for a lot of things, not the least of which was being lethal when it came to keeping his private property private. He did what he could to keep his property off limits, although that was apparently shockingly little. Enough torrid details about his personal life made it into the papers that he either had poor friends or a leak somewhere in his staff. It almost made her pity him.
He couldn’t keep the paparazzi from spying on him with their long-range lenses from boats in the ocean waves that butted against his property, or the helicopters that invaded his air space, but those who dared to step foot on the property were dealt with swiftly and harshly.
There hadn’t been a word about that, however. He’d even had his personal assistant drive them all home, a courtesy she was sure he didn’t offer most trespassers. Maybe that almost-kiss had bought her a little leniency. Would it be too much to hope that it might buy her a little more?
Before she could talk herself out of it, Constance threw her shoes back on and ran next door, knocking until Mrs. Ballas stumbled to the door.