Wishing That I Was Yours (A Lennox in Love) Read online

  Wishing That I Was

  Yours

  (A Lennox in Love, Book 3)

  Tina Martin

  Copyright @ 2016 Tina Martin. All rights reserved.

  WISHING THAT I WAS YOURS

  Smashwords Edition

  This book may not be reproduced or distributed in any format including photography, recording information storage and retrieval systems without the prior written permission of the author. No part of this book may be uploaded without written permission from the author.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any similarities to real people, names places, things or events are a product of the author’s imagination and strictly coincidental and are used fictitiously.

  Inquiries? Contact:

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  Synopsis

  She always liked him, but pushed those feelings aside. Now they’ve reemerged with a force she can hardly control…

  Jessalyn Lennox has harbored a crush with Spencer Wakefield for nearly a decade. He was the man of her dreams, but he was unavailable. Older. One of her brothers’ best friends. He was like family. No, he was family and she loved him like a brother.

  When Spencer becomes aware of Jessalyn’s feelings for him, he knows the best course of action is to talk some sense into her. His goal is to make her understand that a relationship between the two of them wouldn’t work due to the family dynamic. His refusal to even try leaves them both at a loss.

  Leaving them both wishing.

  But there’s nothing like a little jealousy that kicks a man in the butt and makes him realize that if you don’t want her, someone else does. He just better hope it isn’t too late.

  Happy reading!

  WISHING THAT I WAS YOURS

  A Lennox in Love Novella

  Chapter 1

  Jessalyn Lennox sat at a bar table glaring at the man sitting across from her – Spencer Wakefield. The very man she’d had a crush on as a teenager. Even now that she was twenty-eight, she still dreamed about him from time-to-time and that was irritating enough. Why? Because she couldn’t have him. They could only be friends, but at the moment, he felt more like an enemy – like a man she could choke right about now.

  Her brother, Remington, had sent him here. She knew it. This little stunt had Remington Lennox’s name splattered all over it. Mr. Father Figure, big brother Remington always wanted to play daddy. Always wanted to come to her rescue. Always thought she wasn’t business-minded enough to carry out and follow through with her own ideas and ventures.

  And now Spencer was on her case.

  Staring.

  Staring with that silly, tight-lipped smirk on his face. The expression he’d always put on display when he knew he was getting under her skin. Being annoying. Like when he made it a point to snatch off her flag belt every time she had possession of the football on Saturday or when he followed her home whenever she stayed out late, just to make sure she’d make it there safely.

  Spencer and Remington were best friends, boys or homies…whatever male friends called themselves these days. Actually, Spencer was close with the whole family. In many ways, he was family, and Jessalyn always looked at him like one of her brothers. He had all the annoying traits of brothers.

  Overbearing.

  Obsessive.

  Watch your every move.

  Oh, and extremely overprotective.

  She didn’t need anyone else on her case. She got that enough of that crap from Remington, Kenton and Giovanni. Now, it was coming from Spencer, too?

  Annoyed and fuming with irritation, she tapped her pen against her notebook and just looked at him. The anger had tightened up her face like she’d been injected with a shot of Botox and she knew Spencer could decipher the pure and unfiltered frustration radiating across the table. For a split second, she thought about leaping across the table like a cheetah and slapping that smirk away from his face.

  An absurdly handsome face.

  A laid back, so-fine-it-didn’t–require-any-effort face. He towered at six feet three with dark black eyes – eyes as potently black as the curly hair on his head. He had a beautiful brown-sugar complexion – brown like buttery, butterscotch fudge. His lips were perfect, framed with a trimmed goatee. He was eye candy. Man candy. A heartbreaker. He was all that and then some. She’d give him that much, but why was it the cute ones that pissed you off the most? And the really messed up part about it all was, her intuition told her that Spencer knew she had a crush on him. He just never acted on it. He wouldn’t act on it because of who she was – his best friend’s sister.

  She rolled her eyes. Shook her head. She was so mad, she couldn’t form words. All she could do was look at him.

  “You can glare at me all you want, girl,” Spencer said. “Bottom line is, Remy is right. You have no clue what you’re doing. None, whatsoever.”

  Her glaze matured. Anger whirled around her. Good thing she’d been sipping on a Vodka-cranberry concoction. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have been relaxed enough to deal with his sarcasm. She’d usually roll with his punches. Today, she wasn’t feeling it.

  She dropped her pen and crossed her arms. “First of all, how did you know I was here?” she asked. She was at Smoky Joe’s with a one-subject spiral notebook doing what she always did – write notes about her dream of opening a boutique. No – a gift shop. Maybe a thrift store. She wasn’t certain, and that’s the main reason why Remington was reluctant to support her.

  Remington wanted her to think things through without blindly jumping into a project – something she had a tendency to do. Then later, she’d back out. Like the time she had the idea to start a college tutoring meetup group. After three meetings that idea tanked. Then there was the idea of the beauty bar – a place where women could shop for lipstick and get a nail polish color change. That never took off.

  When Spencer didn’t answer her, she unfolded her arms and slammed her notebook closed. “Well?” She pursed her lips.

  Spencer looked at her puckered lips and then his eyes slowly rolled back up to meet her eyes. “You’re not hard to find, Jess. Need I remind you that this is a small town. A small mountain town at that.”

  “It ain’t small enough where you’d know my every move, Spencer. Give me a break.”

  Spencer’s mouth twisted into an enigmatic smile. “Maybe Rem’s got a tracker on your cell. You ever consider that as a possibility?” He grinned.

  “Ha, ha, ha…funny,” Jessalyn said before she took a sip of her drink.

  “How many of those have you had, by the way?” Spencer asked, gesturing toward her glass.

  Now he was starting to sound like Remington…

  “One. Happy?” she said snippily, then plastered the fakest smile she could muster on her face.

  Spencer reached across the table, took her glass and tossed back the rest of her drink.

  Her mouth fell open. “Did—did you just—?”

  “You didn’t need it anyway,” he interjected, licking his lips. “I don’t like the idea of you drinking and driving.”

  “I’m not drinking and driving! I had this one measly drink that was as weak as the pickup lines I’ve heard before you came up in here, and that’s it. One drink!”

  He shrugged his large shoulders. “So.”

  Jessalyn frowned as her legs bounced up and down underneath the table. “You’re so freakin’ annoying it’s a shame.”

  “I know I’m annoying. I’m supposed to be,” he said flippantly. “Now, listen, Jess…I know you got this I-can-do-it-on-my-own mentality, but when someone is offering you help, you should be humble enough to accept it.”

  She lifted a brow and poked out her lip
s.

  “And you shouldn’t pucker your lips like that unless you want them kissed,” Spencer said.

  She tilted her head. “Who’s going to kiss them? You?”

  His pupils dilated before her eyes. If only.

  “And I’m not foolish enough to believe that Remington is offering me help,” she said. “He just wants me to quit.”

  “You know that’s a lie. Rem loves you and Davina dearly. I’ve never seen a brother as protective of his sisters than he is over you girls. Whether you believe it or not, he sent me here to offer you some assistance.”

  Then maybe he really does have a tracker on my phone, Jessalyn thought.

  “What kind of assistance?”

  “With this project you’ve been whining about.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Whining?”

  “Okay. Wrong word. Rem tells me you’ve been tossing around the idea of opening a store. What kind of place are you thinking about opening?”

  “A place called none of your freakin’ business.”

  He laughed. “That’s an interesting name choice for a store. Sounds just like a place that won’t get any freakin’ business.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I don’t need your help, Spencer.”

  “Oh, yes you do.”

  “Oh, no I don’t. Just because you’re running your store doesn’t mean you know what it takes to open and run mine.”

  “First off, you don’t even know what kind of store you want to open. At one point I heard the word boutique floating around. Then, gift shop. You need to sit down and plan this stuff out.”

  “What do you think I’m doing?” she asked with veins bulging out of her temple. Did he not see her here with a pen and notebook brainstorming?

  “You’re sitting at the bar, looking beautiful I might add, drinking alcohol with a notebook and a pen. That’s what you’re doing. You’re not planning anything, Jess. You’re just dreaming and drinking at this point. And these men in here are staring at you like you’re fresh meat and quite frankly, I’m a little irritated by it. Can’t you do this at home, or better yet at a library or something?”

  “Gosh, you’ve been hanging around my brother too long. You’re just as painfully annoying as he is.”

  “And you’re equally as stubborn,” he shot back.

  “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me. Stubborn. Too set in your ways to accept help. I’m here, offering you my services and like a lil’ brat, you want to pout, whine and complain.”

  Jessalyn snapped her head back and said, “Okay, I don’t know who you think you’re talking to, but you will not talk to me that way. I don’t care how long we’ve known each other. I’m not a child and I refuse to be treated like one.”

  “I didn’t say you were a child. I called you a brat.” He chuckled.

  “Ugh…” She stood up and said, “I didn’t ask for your help, nor do I need it. I’ll do this on my own, even if it takes fifty freakin’ years!”

  Amused, he said, “In fifty years, you’ll be like seventy-eight, won’t you? You want to open a business at seventy-eight years old? Seriously?”

  She sighed heavily.

  “Suit yourself,” he said. “The only thing I’m opening up at that age is a pack of Depends and a bag of peppermint puffs.” He could hardly talk for laughing, but he continued saying, “I say peppermint puffs because they are much softer than the hard peppermints. It’ll be easier to eat since I won’t have any teeth and it’ll keep me busy while I watch your wrinkly seventy-eight-year-old butt still working on your business plan.”

  Jessalyn groaned when he erupted in laughter. She snatched her notebook and hightailed it out of there. Before she could get to her car, she was already dialing Remington’s number.

  “Hey, Jess,” Remington answered.

  “Don’t hey Jess me,” she snapped.

  He grinned. “I was going to ask you if you met with Spencer. From the pitch of your tone, I take it you have.”

  “You got a lot of nerve, Remy. I didn’t ask you for help and I certainly didn’t ask you to send Spencer here to coach me. And how the freak did you know where I was in the first place?”

  She threw her purse in the passenger seat, got inside of the car and slammed the door.

  “Jess, calm down a minute.”

  “I’ll calm down when you learn to mind your own business, Remy.”

  “You are my business, Jessalyn. You’re my little sister.”

  “I’m your sister. Take little out of the equation because I think that’s where you have things confused. I’m not little anymore. I’m a grown woman. I certainly don’t need a babysitter, and I don’t need you to pretend to be my father. I—I don’t have a father,” she said in a broken voice. “Bye, Remy. I can’t talk to you right now.”

  “Jess—”

  “Bye.”

  “Je—”

  She hung up the phone. Remington was trying to call her name and reclaim her attention before she hung up, but Jessalyn had heard enough. Plus, talking about their parents was a touchy subject for her. She was young when her father passed. A teenager when their mother flipped out and left.

  After starting the car, she pressed the brake, shifted the gear into the drive position and that’s when she heard the sound of knuckles making a melody against her window.

  Spencer.

  Ugh…

  “What?” she asked, after rolling down the window just enough to hear his voice.

  “Can you wait a minute?” he asked.

  “No. I’m going home.”

  “Like I don’t know where you live,” he said. “Talk to me right now, or I will come there and ring your doorbell until you do.”

  “And I’ll call the cops.”

  He smirked. “No, you wouldn’t.”

  She wouldn’t, and he knew her well enough to know that. Mad and all, she wouldn’t do anything to cause trouble for him.

  “Unlock the door, Jess.”

  Reluctantly, she shifted the car back in park and pressed the unlock button.

  Spencer jogged around the backside of her car, opened the passenger door and got in. He looked at her. Just stared for a moment. Then a smile came to his face.

  She glanced over at him. “What are you smiling about?”

  “The fact that you are so tenacious. I think it’s cute. I always liked that about you.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Whatever, Spence. You’ll say anything to convince me that this little stunt you and Remy pulled is legit.”

  “It is legit. I truly, from the bottom of my heart, want to help you, Jessalyn,” he said placing his hand over his heart.

  She looked at him, smiled, and then playfully pushed his shoulder. “I hate you with a passion. You know that, don’t you?”

  He chuckled. “Yeah. I know. Now, tell me. What exactly are your plans in relation to this store? Or gift shop? Or whatever…?”

  “I don’t know.”

  His brows furrowed. “You don’t know?”

  “No. I don’t. I know I want to do something. I want to have something. Own something. I want satisfaction and fulfillment in life that comes from being my own boss. Right now, I don’t have that.”

  “I see.”

  “Don’t you feel a level of accomplishment and purpose with running a successful business?” she asked him.

  “Well, yes, but business ain’t everything. You need to be happy right now. Are you happy?”

  Jessalyn shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  “Okay, listen. Here’s what we’re going to do. First, I want you to make a list of five types of businesses you think you would want to own. And be true with the list. Think about your talents. Your likes and dislikes. Don’t go into business thinking that you’ll do whatever it is you think will make the most money. In order for you to get any real fulfillment out of it, it has to be your passion. You know…like the way you hate me.”

  She smiled, watching him do the same. “Okay, Spencer. I have a few ideas in m
ind already.”

  “Good. Tomorrow, I’ll drop by your place after work and we’ll discuss them. Is that okay?”

  “You don’t have to put yourself out. I can work around your schedule, or you can just call me.”

  “It’s cool. I’m not putting myself out because you’re going to have dinner ready for me when I get there, right?” He smiled big, showcasing his gorgeous teeth.

  “Right.”

  “Then I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said. “Should we shake on it?”

  “Get out of my car, Spencer,” she said, amused.

  He opened the door and said, “See you tomorrow.”

  “Okay. See you tomorrow.” She watched him as he walked away from her with that signature walk of his. She loved everything there was to love about Spencer Wakefield. What she could never understand was why he considered her off limits when it came to dating. It’s not like he had prospects. Neither did she. She didn’t want any prospects.

  She wanted him.

  Chapter 2

  Spencer stopped by Island Street Deli on the way home and ordered a grilled chicken salad. Sitting on a black leather sofa in his entertainment room, he popped the top off a bottle of beer before flicking on the TV. Thursday Night Football was a must-see tonight since the Carolina Panthers were playing. He grabbed the remote. He’d missed the first quarter thanks to Jessalyn, but it was all good. The Panthers had a fourteen point lead over the opposing team.

  He crammed a heaping fork full of lettuce in his mouth when he heard the doorbell. Some of the guys would usually pop in to talk sports and they knew his routine when it came to the Panthers. They were all Panthers’ fans, too – well except for Kenton who was indifferent to following organized sports or rooting for teams. He was too busy following women.

  Walking to the door, taking another swig of beer in the process, Spencer opened it for Remington.