Happy Hour: From the Black & White Collection

Last call? She’ll take a double. Straight up, please…

From the
Black & White
Collection

For six years, widow Grace Wright’s days have been filled as a single working mother. Now, with her

daughter graduating, her nest is yawning before her, wide and empty. And so is the upcoming weekend.

Invited out by her coworkers, she decides it’s time to turn that corner and get on with her life.

Jamie’s had his eye on Grace for years, but it never seemed the right time to approach her. Tonight,

something’s different. The sexual signals she’s giving off are unmistakable—and he’s not the only man in the bar who’s noticed. His best friend, Trey, is breaking a sweat just looking at the delectable English teacher.

The two men make her the offer of a lifetime, and Grace doesn’t hesitate. For one night, Jamie and

Trey indulge her every desire, every fantasy, every naughty craving. In the morning Trey is gone with the wind, but Jamie is holding on to every moment as if he never wants to let go. Leaving her wondering if

another chance at forever is too much to ask…

Warning: Contains a red-hot ménage, anal sex, graphic language, bondage and toys. Serve with a tall,

cool one with plenty of ice. How ’bout another round?

eBooks are
not
transferable.

They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

Samhain Publishing, Ltd.

577 Mulberry Street, Suite 1520

Macon GA 31201

Happy Hour

Copyright © 2010 by Mari Carr

ISBN: 978-1-60928-218-9

Edited by Lindsey Faber

Cover by Kendra Egert

All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Firs
t Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
electronic publication: October 2010

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Happy Hour

Mari Carr

Dedication

To my best friend, Lisa. There’s no one I’d rather share a happy hour with more than you.

Chapter One

“Another pitcher,” Jamie Fisher called out to the waitress.

“And some wings,” Grace added.

Jamie laughed as Grace raised her glass and quickly finished off her beer to make room for a fresh

cold one.

“Take it easy, Ms. Wright,” he teased. “We have all night if you need it.”

She grinned and nodded, hoping Jamie couldn’t see the flush she felt heating her cheeks as his
all

night
comment sent her mind straight to the gutter. After such a long sexual dry spell, she had the feeling she’d definitely need all night, especially if it was with him. “Oh, I need it all right. I’ve been living for this happy hour all week. It’ll be a miracle if I make through exams without killing a senior.”

“Yep. Same thing every year. Seniors check out at the end of April and it’s hell trying to teach them

anything until graduation,” Jamie agreed.

“At least you have some underclassmen classes to break up the insanity. I’ve spent eight hours a day

for the last few weeks trying to teach literary theory to AP kids and I’m fairly certain I’d be doing as much good if I just stood in front of the classroom and beat my head against the whiteboard.” Grace taught six classes of advanced placement English to seniors, a futile task in May as their minds were already focused on the after-graduation party, senior beach week and college.

“Well, there’s your problem,” Trey Donovan chimed in. “I don’t even know what the hell literary

theory is and you’re trying to teach it to a bunch of kids with senioritis.”

Grace rolled her eyes, mainly to keep from letting her gaze wander over Trey’s pecs. His firm muscles

pushed their way through his tight gray T-shirt. Ever since they’d entered the bar, she’d been fighting back some serious arousal issues as she considered slipping her hands beneath the soft cotton and touching the firm muscles and chocolate-brown skin taunting her. She took a deep breath and cast the thought

aside…again.

Trey and Jamie were both teachers in the physical education department at her school, and while

she’d never considered them dumb jocks, they liked to play the part whenever she started talking about

literature or writing, teasing her about her highbrow lessons and bragging about how they got to play games all day. Lately, her feelings of friendship toward them had been laced with more than a healthy bit of

desire. She needed to stop reading spicy romance novels. They were clearly leaving her too horny—and

Mari Carr

Happy Hour

planting some pretty wicked seeds in her psyche. She’d hit the library on Monday and check out a murder mystery—the bloodier, the better.

“Should I launch in to today’s lecture about existentialism?” Grace asked.

“Jesus,” Jamie said. “I can’t even spell that word. We’re in the tennis unit this week.” He raised his

short sleeve polo and Grace tried to ignore the purely female part of her that wanted to melt as she was treated to a glimpse of his muscular arm. “Been getting paid while working on my tan.”

She laughed, fully aware of the fact Jamie was much brighter than he pretended to be around his male

friends. They’d had more than a few discussions about books while alone and he had a very sharp mind. Of course, tonight wasn’t about intellect. It was about talking, laughing and unwinding over a few beers with friends. As she glanced around the table, she knew she was blessed.

Lucas, a fellow English teacher, and her best friend, Cheryl, the librarian, were also casting off the

stress of work at happy hour. The group had been coming to Tully’s Bar for the occasional Friday

afternoon decompression as long as Grace could remember. She had worked with most of the teachers

around her for years, and they’d become much closer than mere colleagues to her. They’d seen her through one of the darkest periods of her life and she sometimes wondered how she’d gotten through the daily

stress of teaching without them.

Cheryl leaned toward her with a mischievous grin. “Looks like the Cougar Club rides again.”

“Oh jeez,” Grace muttered.

Cheryl had given their little group the nickname last summer when they’d all gotten together to

celebrate Grace’s fortieth birthday at Jamie’s house. When a discussion on age ensued, they’d learned Trey and Lucas were in their late twenties, a fact that delighted Cheryl so much she’d henceforth referred to them as The Cougar Club. The guys loved it. Grace, not so much.

Jamie laughed at Cheryl’s comment when Grace complained. “Do you have to call it that?” she asked.

“You make me feel like a dirty old woman.”

Jamie winked at her and she tried to ignore the completely inappropriate Mrs. Robinson-like feelings

his handsome face always provoked.

“I wouldn’t mind getting dirty with you.” He leaned closer as he spoke, running a finger along her

arm seductively. Grace resisted the urge to glance down and make sure her suddenly tight nipples weren’t poking through her blouse. One touch and the man had her panting like a dog in heat.

They all laughed, but there were times when Grace wondered if there wasn’t some veiled invitation

behind Jamie’s teasing comments. He joked about sex all the time with her. His playful words never

offended her, but instead fanned the small flame he’d lit inside her. He made her feel young and attractive and desirable.

She dismissed the thought.

Wishful thinking.

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Mari Carr

Jamie wasn’t as young as the other guys in their group. She and Jamie had worked together for nearly

eight years and they’d been close friends half that time. It seemed like lately she was seeing him more often. Not that that was surprising. She’d begun to instigate ways to run into him because she enjoyed his company more than she cared to admit. The past few months, she’d been suffering from this lingering

sadness she knew was loneliness. It disappeared any time Jamie was with her, so she contrived ways to be around him. Still, at thirty-two, he was almost a decade younger than her forty. “Behave yourself, Mr.

Fisher,” she teased, “or you’ll be singing alone tonight.”

“Jamie alone?” Cheryl asked. “Our resident Casanova?”

Jamie shook his head and threw up his hands. “I think you have me confused with Trey or Lucas here.

Pretty sure they’re pictured in the dictionary under the term
player
, not me.”

“If the shoe fits,” Lucas joked.

Grace laughed. “Oh, it fits, hotshot. Hey, Trey. What are you doing here anyway? I thought you were

going to a Jay-Z concert tonight.”

“Nope, the concert is tomorrow night,” Trey replied. He was sitting next to her and she could swear

when they’d claimed their chairs earlier, his had been farther away. He was close enough now she could

smell the faint scent of his cologne and his leg kept brushing against hers beneath the table.

She
accidentally
moved hers until her knee touched his thigh. She left it there. Trey looked at her and gave her a knowing grin. She returned it and suppressed a tiny giggle. She was flirting with him—pure and simple. She wasn’t sure why, but like everything with Trey, it was fun.

Jamie looked at Trey, then at her, his gaze curious. He moved closer to her, casually draping his arm

along the back of her chair. In Grace’s sex-deprived mind, the gesture seemed charmingly possessive and hot.

She took a deep breath, resisting the urge to drag Jamie or Trey or both of them to the parking lot for some serious backseat fucking. Her hormones were out of control and she knew something was going to

have to give…soon. Bottling up sexual desires for so long couldn’t be healthy.

Jamie picked up a strand of her hair and began looping it around his finger gently. “I dragged him out

tonight because the bartender dumped him.”

“She didn’t dump me,” Trey replied. “It was a mutual decision. By the way, thanks for bringing it up,

bro.”

Jamie laughed. “What are friends for?”

Grace could see Trey wasn’t really upset about the break-up and laughed at Trey’s “bringing it up”

line. It was a Jamie and Trey standard. The two men constantly entertained the rest of them with stories of their adventures—in and out of the classroom. They were inseparable and lately she’d lie in bed each night playing out some pretty hardcore fantasies about the two of them taking her on a little adventure between the sheets.

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Mari Carr

Happy Hour

“I’m sorry, Trey. I was starting to think she might be the one,” Grace said.

Cheryl rolled her eyes. “These guys wouldn’t know the one if she walked up and bit them in the ass.”

Jamie grinned wickedly. “Believe me, if a woman bit my ass, I’d pay attention.”

Cheryl narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms.

“Now you’re in trouble,” Grace muttered, but Cheryl never paused, never missed a beat.

“Dammit, Jamie. At least Trey can sustain a respectable amount of time dating the same person.

Every time I see you out, you’re with a different woman. You’re not getting any younger, you know.

What’s the fun of getting married and having babies if you’re too old to pick them up?”

“Whoa.” Jamie threw his hands up. “Don’t even mention the ‘b’ word to me. I work in a high school

because the kids there are old enough to wipe their own asses. I was not made for little kids.”

Cheryl conceded that point and latched on to the first. “Don’t you ever think about getting hitched?”

Trey piped up, obviously enjoying the fact Jamie was now on the hot seat. “Yeah, Jamie. Don’t you

want to settle down?”

Jamie narrowed his eyes at his best friend and then shrugged. “I guess I do.” He looked around the

table and then grinned at Grace. “If you want the truth, I’ve just been biding my time with those other women until Grace comes to her senses and realizes how much she wants my hot bod.”

Grace rolled her eyes. He was a master at dodging subjects he didn’t want to discuss. “Such conceit,”

she said.
And such truth.
She allowed herself the small pleasure of letting her gaze travel over his sexy physique.

“Now,” Jamie said, leaning closer to her, “about our duet…”

Jamie was a hopeless flirt, but she had to admit he was good for her ego. There wasn’t a single inch

on his body that was hard to look at. Not that she’d seen much of his body anywhere besides her

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