“What heat?”
The other man tipped his head in Gloria’s direction. “She was having a good time with me before you got here. We were getting…close.”
Asher’s nostrils flared. “Didn’t notice. I was too busy kissing her.”
Brice laughed and Asher’s tendons went taut. This guy dug under his skin. He was pursuing Gloria, and from where Ash stood when he’d first spotted them dancing, it was working.
“Come on, Knight. We both know that kiss was to put me in my place.”
Okay, he’d admit partly to wanting to show Brice what Gloria meant to him, but once he’d put his lips on hers, Brice was the furthest thing from his mind. It’d been all about tasting her, melding with her, wanting her. He’d felt her give—go pliant beneath his touch—which meant he had a shot.
“Make you a deal,” Brice said. “You bring the band over to me for representation and I’ll stop pursuing Gloria.”
Asher couldn’t have heard that right. He took a step closer to Brice, fist curling at his side. “You’re gonna want to rethink that statement, McGuire. You think I’d let anyone use Gloria for anything, you’re a bigger asshole than I originally thought.”
Hitting him would be ill-advised—his PR person would kill him—yet so satisfying. Decisions, decisions…
“I’m not using her at all.” Brice was too calm. Asher didn’t like it. Didn’t trust it. “I was offering as a courtesy. I think she likes me.”
“I think you might see things differently when I drop you on your ass in front of all these people.” Ash tilted his head. Ill-advised or not, maybe just one solid hit. He’d break his nose and walk away. He was Asher Knight, after all. He may have a dog, a house, a son he was trying to get closer to, but that didn’t mean his edge was dulled. When it came to Gloria, this bastard needed to know she was out of fucking bounds.
“You need a new agent.” Brice sipped his beer, undeterred.
“So, not just an asshole, but a stupid one. You think I’d let you touch my band?”
“You’re a smart guy. You know the benefits of being linked with an agent with my connections. And soon, when Gloria agrees to partner with me, she and I will share lots of things. Clients. A federal ID number. Chicago.” He smiled smugly.
Chicago. Asher felt like he’d taken a punch to the gut.
“She just moved here, dumbass.” But Asher’s confidence had slipped a little. She’d partner with Brice McGuire over his dead body. “You have nothing to offer her.”
Not in business. Not personally. Asher would see to it.
Brice didn’t have a chance to respond because right then a very high-pitched squeal came from their left, followed by, “Oh my God! Are you Asher Knight?”
A blond girl, old enough to drink but Asher would guess not by much, wobbled over wearing knee-high, sparkly pink boots. Pink.
Worst timing ever, but if there was one thing he wasn’t willing to do it was snub a fan. He owed them. The fans made him who he was. They may forgive him for brawling in public, but not for ignoring one of their own.
“Tend to your groupie,” Brice said.
Definitely hitting him when he was done.
Asher turned to the girl and put a finger to his lips. He did his best to look coy. “Don’t tell, okay? I’m in disguise.”
“Oh my God,” the fan whispered this time. “I love you.” She cradled her red Solo cup and judging by the size of her pupils, whatever was in there wasn’t the only substance she’d had tonight. “Can I get a photo?”
“Sure thing, honey.” Quicker they got this over with the better. He always had time for fans, but he also had Brice’s face to smash in. Gloria took priority, and setting things straight needed to happen.
Ash went to the fan as she pulled a cell phone out and switched to selfie mode. In what he guessed was her signature pose, she pouted and snapped the picture while he gave a practiced smirk.
“Oh my God! Will you sign my body?” She tucked the phone back into her pocket. “I don’t have a pen.”
“Sharpie?” Brice offered, producing a black marker from his pocket.
Ash snatched it from him.
The blonde yanked the very low-cut neck of her shirt even lower and pointed out where she wanted Asher to sign. Tit. Of course. He scrawled his signature over her boob as requested.
He capped the marker and backed away while the girl snapped a selfie of his artwork. She was something else. And he’d bet she started every sentence with—
“Oh my God!”
That.
“Thank you!” she said, forcing her voice to a whisper when he held his finger to his lips again.
“Welcome.” He lifted his hand to wave and took a few steps away from her.
“I’m going to get it tattooed,” she called.
“Send me a picture.”
Her eyes glazed over the slightest bit. “Oh my God, really?”