Her Great Expectations

“Fourteen is a tough age for school. I hated it.”

Sienna’s gaze flicked to his clearly expensive house and back to him. “You really don’t work at anything?”

“Life’s short,” he said flippantly. “I live for pleasure.”

Suspicion clouded her eyes. “Then how do you get money?”

“I’m not a drug dealer. Nothing illegal is going on.”

“But you must have worked at some time in the past.”

“The past is a foreign country. I lost my passport.”

“Mr. Mysterious, eh?” She leaned on the porch railing, studying him. “Are you really content with just hobbies?”

He sensed she wanted to like him. He wasn’t being egotistical to think that. And he was attracted to her. Yet it was clear she couldn’t help judging him. Self-indulgent. Lazy. Hedonistic. He could almost hear the pronouncements flowing through her mind. Those qualities weren’t what she, a doctor, stood for.

“I’m not a bad person,” he said, attempting to make a joke of it. “In fact, you and I operate by the same code—‘First, do no harm.’”

“You don’t do harm by having a job.”

“I had a job once. I ran a light-aircraft charter. I was a pilot. I also built and repaired engines and navigational systems.” He gave her a twisted smile. “A ‘Jack’ of all trades, you could say.”

“That sounds amazing,” she said. “Why did you stop?”

He shrugged. “I got tired of it.”

“Really?” she said, dubious. “Will you ever go back to it?”

“No. Never.” It had been a great job, one he loved. But he’d screwed up big-time. Leanne had paid the price. “Look, it’s best not to have expectations of me. I don’t like to disappoint.”

“Are you warning me off?” Sienna asked.

“No, that’s not it. Not exactly.” But he suspected she had a fairly rigid definition of success and he didn’t meet the criteria.

“It’s okay.” Her glance went past his shoulder. “There’s the taxi.” She bent to slip her shoes back on. From somewhere she found a hair tie and tamed the mass of auburn curls into a ponytail.

“Thanks so much for a wonderful evening, Jack. The food was marvelous. Your friends are lovely.” She was smiling as she circled around him, one foot on the next step down. “I really enjoyed myself.”

“Come again, anytime.”

“Love to.” Her tone was light.

The taxi’s headlights were behind her, so he couldn’t see her expression. Did she mean it, or were her cool gray-green eyes sending another message entirely?

In a way he supposed he had been warning her off. He’d built a comfortable life, one he could live with. His friends understood him—well, as much as anyone could understand someone who didn’t spill his guts at the drop of a hat—and enjoyed him for who he was.

The problem with women was they always thought they could change you. He was quite happy being himself, thank you very much. He didn’t want anyone, not even a redheaded Venus, rocking his carefully balanced boat.

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