When Staci Takes Charge (Leave Your Shoes On 2)

Ha. There it was.

Proof that he had to be dreaming, because he never in a million years would consciously allow his very structured thoughts to run in these crazy directions.

The fantasy said, “So…how ’bout it?”

Every muscle in his body went rigid.

Yeah. Even that one.

Well, he had the beginnings of an erection at any rate. One that would easily qualify as a mammoth hard-on if he didn’t keep his cool. Thank God he wore loose black pants to help hide the evidence of her effect on him. He also had on a deep-blue tank top and was barefoot. His dark hair had to be a tousled mess from raking his hands through it half the night in frustration. And he knew he sported a five o’clock shadow on his jaw. Or, rather, a three a.m. shadow.

He’d been no more prepared for this encounter than she.

He flipped the security latch outward to keep his door from closing and locking behind him, and took a few strides across the hall to scoop up the ice bucket. His gaze locked on candy-apple-red toenails.

Christ, even her feet were sexy.

With absolutely no restraint whatsoever—again not like him at all—his gaze traveled up her ankles, her calves, her thighs…

His mouth watered as he continued over her flat stomach and her full breasts. All that registered in his brain was silky skin, satiny material…and lace. Oh, the lace.

Get a grip, man.

You’re not an animal.

Or a caveman.

Though he suddenly had caveman tendencies. To throw this gorgeous woman over his shoulder and carry her into his cave.

Heat rushed through his veins. A couple beads of perspiration popped along his hairline.

It was entirely possible he’d spent too much time in the office lately, and too little time socializing with the female gender.

Or perhaps it was just that he’d never come across a woman that set his body on fire the way this one did.

He found himself saying, “If I really am dreaming, I have a much better imagination than I ever knew.”

She took the bucket from him, holding it tightly to her midsection with both hands.

The cords of her long, graceful neck pulled as she sucked in a sharp breath. Her enticing chest rose and fell a bit faster. Lust lit her tawny eyes.

Yes, lust.

Impossible to miss.

“I can’t recall the last time a man looked at me that way,” she admitted in a quiet, provocative tone.

“How am I looking at you?”

“Like you could kiss me from head to toe—and not miss any of the good parts in between.”

He groaned—because what she’d suggested was exactly what he wanted to do. But he was couth by nature. Usually was, anyway. “Sorry. I’m being rude.”

“I wasn’t actually complaining. In fact…It’s incredibly flattering. No one ever sees me like this.”

“That’s a damn shame.”

“You don’t know the half of it.” She swallowed hard. A hint of emotion—lonesomeness?—flickered in her mesmerizing irises, and tugged at his heartstrings quite unexpectedly.