“This will be our last song for the set. If you have requests, write them down and leave them in the jar.” She points to the clear vessel at her feet. “We’ll be back to play in thirty. If you have a dirty proposition, I’ll entertain them at the bar in five.” She says the words like she’s kidding.

         I, however, am totally serious.

         Keeley starts her next song, a more recent pop tune, in a breathy, a capella murmur. “Can’t keep my hands to myself.”

         She taps her thigh in a rhythm only she can hear until the band joins during the crescendo to the chorus. Keeley bounces her way through the lyrics with a flirty smile. It’s both alluring and fun, a tease of a song.

         Though I rarely smile, I find myself grinning along.

         As she finishes, I glance around. There’s more than one hungry dog with a bone in this damn bar.

         I didn’t get ahead in business or life by being polite or waiting my turn. She hasn’t even wrapped her vocal cords around the last note but I’m on my feet and charging across the room.

         I’m the first one to reach the corner of the bar closest to the stage. I prop my elbow on the slightly sticky wood to claim my territory, then glare back at the three other men who think they should end Keeley’s supposed sex drought. They are not watering her garden, and my snarl makes that clear.

         One sees my face, stops in his tracks, and immediately backs off. Smart man.

         Number Two looks like a smarmy car salesman. He rakes Keeley up and down with his gaze like she’s a slab of beef, but she’s flirting my way as she tucks her mic on its stand. I smile back.

         She’s not really my type, but man, I’d love to hit that.

Out of the corner of my eye, I watch the approaching dirtbag finger his porn ‘stouche. To stake my claim, I reach out to help Keeley off the stage. She looks pleasantly surprised by my gesture as she wraps her fingers around mine.

I can be a gentleman…when it suits me.

Fuck, she’s warm and velvety, and her touch makes my cock jolt. Her second would-be one-night stand curses then slinks back to his seat.

That leaves me to fend off Number Three. He looks like a WWE reject—hulking and hit in the face too many times. If she prefers brawn over brains, I’ll have to find another D-cup distraction for Griff.

That would truly suck. My gut tells me Keeley is perfect for the job.

Would it be really awful if I slept with her before I introduced her to my brother?