Tame Me
A Stark International Novella
by J. Kenner
Chapter One
That, I think, was one hell of a party.
I am standing with my back to the Pacific as I watch the efficient crew break down the lovely white tents. The leftover food has already been packed away. The trash has been discarded. The band left hours ago, and the last of the guests have already departed.
Even the paparazzi who had camped out on the beach hoping to snag a few choice pictures of my best friend Nikki Fairchild’s wedding to multi-bazillionaire and former tennis star Damien Stark are long gone.
I sigh and tell myself that this vague emptiness I’m feeling isn’t melancholy. Instead, it’s an aftereffect of staying up all night drinking and partying. I am, of course, lying. I’m melancholy as shit, but I figure that’s normal. After all, I’ve just watched my best friend get married to the one man in the entire universe who is absolutely, positively perfect for her. Great news, and I’m really and truly happy for her, but she found him without trolling through the entire male population of Los Angeles.
Compare that to me, who’s fucked approximately eighty percent of that population and still hasn’t found a guy like Damien, and I think it’s safe to say that Nikki got the last decent man.
Okay, maybe not the last one, I amend as I catch sight of Ryan Hunter coming down the walking path that winds from Damien’s Malibu house all the way to the beach where I’m now standing. Ryan is the Chief of Security for Stark International, and he and I have been the de facto host and hostess for this post-wedding soiree ever since the bride and groom took off in a helicopter bound for marital bliss.
Ryan is not among the eighty-percent, and that is truly a shame. The man is seriously hot, with piercing blue eyes and chestnut hair worn in a short, almost military style that accents the hard lines and angles of his face. He’s tall and lean, but strong and sexy. I’ve seen him now in both jeans and a tux, and the curve of his ass alone is enough to make a woman drool.
We’ve gotten to know each other over the last few months, and I consider him a friend. Frankly, I’d like to consider him more, and I think he feels the same, even though he has yet to make a move.
I’ve seen the way he watches me, the heat that flares in his eyes when he thinks I’m not looking. Maybe he’s shy—but I doubt it. He’s got a dangerous edge that perfectly suits his job as the head security dude for a guy like Damien and an enterprise like Stark International.
Nikki once told me that there was nothing Ryan liked better than chasing monsters. I believe it, and as I watch him stride down the walking path, his movements a combination of grace and power, I can imagine him in battle and am certain that he would do whatever it takes to win.
No, I don’t believe that Ryan Hunter is shy. All I know is that he’s never made a move on me, and that’s a damn shame.
And now, of course, it’s too late. Because I’m heading back home to Texas tomorrow as part of my newly implemented life goal of getting my shit together. And, as part of the whole Repair My Life plan, I’ve put the kibosh on sleeping around. I’m focusing on Jamie Archer. On figuring out who she is and what she wants, and step one of The Plan is to not do the nasty with every hot guy who crosses my path.
Honestly, men are so five minutes ago.