Ella Frank - Try

He had a successful job, a downtown condo, and an office located next door to his favorite bar. If he were an arrogant man—

Well, hell, who am I kidding? I’m one lucky son of a bitch.

Pushing through the double doors of After Hours , Logan left the cool night air and stepped into the cozy surroundings of his favorite hangout. As the familiar dimly lit interior invited him inside, he was reminded of why he loved coming here. It was the perfect place to sit, observe, and if he wanted to, hunt , and he could accomplish all of that without the constant harassment typically found at a pick-up joint.

Save those particular spots for the weekends.

He craved quiet after work, and maybe—

Oh yeah , he thought as a voluptuous brunette brushed by him, her breasts grazing his arm . Maybe a piece of that, too.

The dark secluded booths lining the sidewall were calling to him, but at the last minute, he changed his mind and bypassed several suits as he made his way up to the bar where he found a vacant stool at the end. He put his buzzing cell phone on the bar top and ignored the text from—

Ah, yes, L.A.-to-Chicago Jessica .

After placing his briefcase on the floor, he sat down and moved it between his feet, securing it there, while he waited for the bartender. Looking around at a few of the people mingling, Logan spotted an attractive woman standing farther down the bar. He was guessing she was in her early thirties. She was a petite redhead, dressed in a snug black jacket and a skirt that hugged her round ass as well as his hands would.

As she inclined her head in his direction, Logan spied the drink in her hand and decided he would send her a second one as soon as the damn bartender showed up. Afterward, maybe he’d take her up to his office and introduce her face to the top of his desk and her perky ass to his—

“What can I get you to drink tonight?”

Finally.

Logan turned his head toward the deep baritone who had just addressed him, and with the way his body reacted, he was thankful he was seated. The guy staring back at him, waiting for an answer, was fucking hot.

Clearing his throat, Logan reminded himself to keep this friendly. “A gin and tonic. Start a tab for me? Thanks.”

“Sure thing. Coming right up,” he told Logan before turning away to make his drink.

Logan quickly assessed the loose brown curls, broad shoulders, trim waist, and—

Speaking of asses…

Turning back to him, the hot bartender slid the glass across the wooden bar top and gave him a wide friendly grin. He then placed his large hands on the surface and angled in closer, like he was about to divulge a secret. Logan felt his cock react to the mischief sparking in the guy’s eyes, and he found himself inching a little closer, deciding that this option was far more interesting than the first.

That was, until the bartender turned his head, looking down the length of the bar. “So what about her?”

Logan glanced in the direction of the redhead, who was still facing his way. It was a pity really because, until around two minutes ago, getting laid tonight had been a sure thing.

Looking back across the bar to a face full of humor, Logan was now thinking about how to get this guy alone and on his knees. That pompous vest and tie, which was part of the After Hours uniform, would look even better if he was staring at it from above, while the legs in those dress slacks were kneeling on the floor.

“What about her?” Logan finally responded, taking the drink and lifting the glass to his lips.

When the bartender chuckled, Logan focused on his Adam’s apple bobbing in his tanned throat.

“Playing it cool, I see,” he joked, as he lifted a white towel and placed it over his shoulder.

“I’m sure you don’t.” If you did, you’d more than likely be moving farther away.

“What was that?”

“Nothing. I guess I just changed my mind.”

“Jesus, man, why would you do that? She’s sexy as hell.”

Logan took another quick drink, draining the contents of the glass, when his body tensed, reacting to the word sexy coming from that smooth voice. It was as if the bartender had just run his hand over Logan’s groin.

Usually, the employees at After Hours weren’t exactly chatty, and if they were, the conversations were always polite. This place was high-end, not like the local pub, and the fact that this guy was standing here, blatantly checking out the clientele, made Logan do a double take of the woman.

“Agreed. She is hot.”

“Want another?” He gestured toward the empty highball glass.

“Sure. So…you’re new here.”

The bartender nodded, his dark hair shifting with the motion of his head, as he looked across at Logan. “You’re obviously not since you know that. I started yesterday.”

“Well, I guess you could say I’m a regular. I work next door.”

The new drink was pushed in his direction, and Logan picked it up without taking his eyes off the man. He was getting some kind of vibe from him, but he was pretty sure it wasn’t the one he was hoping for .

Probably just a new employee appreciating a decent customer.

But every thought running through Logan’s head right now, especially one in particular, was definitely not decent.

That was when the bartender gave another pearly-white grin as he motioned his head down the bar. “Well, have to get back to my fans. Let me know if you want to buy the sexy redhead that drink. You look like you need to unwind, if you know what I mean.”

Before Logan could even get a word out—much less, No, I fucking don’t. What do you mean? —the guy had moved away, and he was now flirting with a blonde woman. She was giving him an exclusive view down her ample tits, and Logan couldn’t stop himself from watching the newest After Hours employee while he drained his second drink.

Fuck, things just got a little more complicated.

Just when he figured life was going to be easy and hand him a woman to bend over his desk, it threw him a nice fucking curve.

Batter up! I want to play with some balls.

Standing opposite a curvaceous blonde, Tate concentrated on mixing her cocktail. This was only his second night working at After Hours, but he’d been bartending for years.

Only one of the many things Diana hated.

No matter what he’d done during their marriage, nothing had ever made her happy.

They’d been inseparable when they first started dating. If she’d been in a room with him, he’d likely ended up inside her. They hadn’t been able to keep their hands off each other, and although that made for one hot bed at night, it sure as hell hadn’t stopped the ice-cold jealousy from trickling through the cracks of their faulty foundation.

Their life or love or whatever the hell it was, had been built on lust, and when lust had morphed into the green-eyed monster, their marriage had fallen into the toxic bin.

Now, the mere sight of her made Tate want to punch something.

After he finished shaking the fruity concoction, he poured the bright red drink into a tall glass and added a slice of pineapple, a straw, and miniscule paper umbrella. He then slid it across the bar to the blonde.

“That’ll be twelve.” He winked and gave her a sexy smirk, knowing it would get him a tip.

It was the same expression he’d offered only minutes ago to the guy at the end of the bar—the same guy that Tate could feel was still watching him.

The lady slid a twenty across the smooth surface, and she made no apologies as she eyed his body. When her gaze came back up and met his own, she flicked her tongue out and played with the straw as though she were licking the tip of his cock.