When Staci Takes Charge (Leave Your Shoes On 2)

The exhilaration had been so consuming that she hadn’t really noticed her pinched toes and aching arches. Now it seemed every inch of her feet throbbed. They were exhausted.

Staci’s mind, however, was a flurry of activity, recalling the conversations, the thrilled looks on the faces in the audience, the cheers and applause, and just…everything. The entire frenetic, vibrating exuberance had her body charged and her blood singing.

This was everything she’d ever wanted.

Well, in addition to her closet full of shoes to go with every outfit she owned.

Pushing herself out of the chair, she hobbled toward the bathroom, passing the sitting area and contemplating plopping down on the sofa. But while her feet screamed bloody murder, her nerve endings buzzed. She was riding a high the likes of which she’d never known.

Staci entered the large space and stripped off her clothes. She had to get rid of all the makeup she wore and the massive quantity of volumizing mousse in her hair, so she stepped under a warm spray in the shower.

Unfortunately, instead of relaxing her, the rhythmic pinging of water against her body charged her more, made her skin tingle.

Staci groaned. So much for being so exhausted she’d fall into bed and be asleep within two seconds. Not a chance in hell. She’d be lucky if her mind shut down at all tonight in order for her to get some rest.

And, damn, did she need it.

She’d spared a glance at the crystal clock on the desk on her way through the living room. It was three in the morning. Definitely time for some shut-eye. But Staci was wide awake.

She left the shower and patted away the drops of water with a towel before using it to rub the ends of her hair. The strands held a natural curl—a look she rarely wore because she preferred a more sophisticated, sleek style.

But there was no one around to see her clean-faced and with wavy, damp hair.

No one at all.

Her excitement dimmed.

Staci’s gaze swept through the bedroom. The empty bedroom, with the empty, turned-down bed. The mound of pillows, of which only half would be used. The TV mounted to the wall that would never be switched on, because Staci didn’t watch TV in bed and there was no one else there to do it, either.

She was alone. On her biggest of big nights.

Meanwhile, Lola and Alex were probably going at it like bunnies. Maxi and Ryan, too. Hell, the same could likely be said for her entire stable of models, for whom she’d comped suites here this evening in exchange for their participation in the show. They also got to keep the clothes and the shoes.

With a sigh, Staci crossed to the closet and pulled out the black satin baby doll nightie she’d hung up when she’d unpacked. Slipped into it and the satin thong that matched. The nightie had thin straps and a fluttery hem that dipped in the front and back, but rose on the sides. There were lace insets at the tops of her breasts and along her left ribcage.

It was luxurious and sexy. And there was no reason in hell for her to be wearing it. She should have brought an oversized T-shirt and wool socks. Who would have known the difference?

All of her lingerie was strictly for her own personal pleasure because Staci hadn’t dated or had sex in…well…longer than she could remember.

Not exactly a fun thought.

One that drove her straight to the truffles housekeeping had left when they’d prepped her room. She unwrapped the chocolates. Savored every bite. Felt slightly better.

Since she was still too keyed up for sleep, she padded barefoot into the living room and raided the wet bar. There was rum and flavored sparkling water. Wild cherry. Her favorite.

Unfortunately, she’d told the valet earlier that she didn’t require ice this evening, again believing she’d be too fatigued for anything more than crashing the instant she returned, rather than brimming with anticipation to see what the critics would have to say about her new line and what sort of sales spikes the company would experience.

Spikes they were fully prepared for this time around.

Collecting the silver-plated bucket, she headed to the door. The ice machine was right around the corner, and it was the middle of the night. There wouldn’t be a soul in sight to see her quickly nab some cubes, then slip back into her room. For good measure, she stole a peek out of the peephole. All clear there. So she cracked open the door. Stuck her head out. The hallway was deserted.

Perfect.

She quietly closed the door behind her. Started down the carpeted corridor, creeping along so no one heard a single footstep or—

Oh, son of a bitch!

Staci stopped dead in her tracks. Stomped a foot without even thinking about it.