Tuesday, 1 November 2011

Unshakeable Faith - Released: 28 November 2011


Of all the bars in all the towns in all the world, the stranger walks into Brody Tyler’s. With no memory and a name he chose from a newspaper, Nash is a gamble—one Brody is willing to take. It isn’t long before Brody and Nash fall in love, but then a tragic accident shatters their cozy world, resetting Nash’s memory once again.

The “new” Nash Walker is a businessman with a bottom line, and he doesn’t care what or who gets stomped on. Waking up in a hospital bed after a hit-and-run with no idea where he’s been for the past six months is bad enough, but someone trying to kill him is even worse. Enter Brody Tyler, accidental bodyguard.

Brody’s determined to help Nash remember and bring back the man he loves. Nash thinks Brody’s a drop-dead gorgeous pain in the ass. If only he could remember….


WHEN Nash awoke from his nap, he sighed heavily before psyching himself up to roll over onto his side so he could see the clock on his nightstand. His ribs hurt like a son of a bitch where they had been
bruised when he’d landed, after the car had tossed him in the air. He was pleased to see that his internal clock was still working and he’d woken with enough time to shower and dress before he had to get to the office. Grimacing as he levered himself off the bed into a sitting position, he panted harshly at the effort it had taken. Another reason to be pissed off with his condescending bodyguard—it had hurt like hell to get off the sofa alone earlier, and the asshole had just looked down his nose at him. Who did he think he was?

Standing slowly, he wrapped an arm around his middle and padded into the bathroom. Of course, he knew how lucky he had been to come away from that hit-and-run with lacerations and bruising, as
everyone had pointed out on more than one occasion, but it didn’t mean that he hurt any less. He contemplated taking another of his pain meds, but quickly dismissed the notion. It was essential that he stayed sharp for the meeting. He couldn’t have them thinking he was running on empty. His father’s words rung in his ears, as they did every time he thought of the business. “Nash, you take care of that company for me, son. I built it up from nothing. You be fair when it warrants and hard when it don’t. You need to make sure they take you seriously. Do it for me.”

Unthinkingly, he made to lift his arm to run it through his hair, suppressing the cry rushing toward his lips at the movement. He couldn’t afford to show weakness, not now, not after all this time. The
kind of business he was in took no prisoners, and if any of the other corporations sensed he was not at his best, they’d try to undercut him left, right, and center.

After the longest ten minutes of his life—who knew taking some sweatpants and a tee off could be so difficult?—he stood beneath the cascading water in the custom-made shower cubicle with his eyes
closed. There had been so many things he had wanted to do with his life, dreams he’d wanted to pursue, just like anyone else. He could have handed the company over to Ben, but he would have run it into the ground in six months, and he couldn’t have let that happen—not to his father’s dream.

Another agonizing twenty minutes later, he was sitting on the edge of his bed with his suit pants on and his shirt open to the waist. Cursing like a sailor, he summoned up the energy to get up again to
obtain the socks he had omitted to take out of the drawer. “Fuck!” he shouted as he stood and his right knee buckled under the pressure put on it. Falling to the floor, onto his damaged knee, he cried out again and tried to catch his breath. Which was when he heard running feet and the bedroom floor fly open, before he gazed up into hazel eyes surrounded by a mass of hair.

“Nash!” Brody hissed. “What happened?”

“I’m looking for my contact,” Nash replied sarcastically. “I fell, you moron, what do you think happened?” He ignored the twitch of Brody’s lips and grabbed hold of the hand the other man held out to him. Brody helped Nash back onto the bed and gazed down at him.

“Do you need a hand?” The question was asked with a raised eyebrow and Nash groaned, knowing he was going to have to bite the bullet here.

“Very funny,” Nash rolled his eyes and nodded to the dresser. “I’m going to be late if we don’t hurry up, and this is a very important meeting. Could you just get me some socks and help me with them?”

“Well, since you asked so nicely,” Brody replied, padding across the room and opening the indicated drawer and closing it again after retrieving a pair of black socks. “Shouldn’t you have some kind of
strapping on those ribs?”

“It hurts,” Nash replied with a petulant pout, feeling utterly humiliated at having Brody kneeling before him and putting on his socks. Not exactly how he’d envisioned the man on his knees when he’d walked into his office with his mother. “What?” His tone was gruff as Brody looked up at him as though he had just dribbled on himself. “You wear it and see how you like it.”

“I don’t need to. I wasn’t hit by a car,” Brody replied succinctly. “Where’s the strapping?”

“Oh for God’s sake—”

“We are not leaving here until you’re strapped up properly.” Brody stood and put his hands on his hips. “How am I supposed to protect you if you won’t protect yourself?”

“God, you’re worse than my mother,” Nash spat, nodding to the nightstand drawer. “I put it in there.” He ignored the roll of Brody’s expressive eyes and his lips curved in a smug smile as a box of
condoms fell onto the floor when Brody pulled out the strapping. Not even bothering to disguise his snort of laughter, he watched Brody quickly grab them and toss them back into the drawer before closing it, and was amazed to see a flush on the high cheekbones. “You okay there, Brody? You have seen a condom before haven’t you?” The man didn’t respond, and all but lifted him to his feet before
slipping the shirt over his shoulders and down his arms so that it fell on the bed. The next ten minutes were spent in silence as Brody turned him this way and that, strapping his ribs before securing the clips to hold it in place. Nash took a breath while Brody pulled the shirt up his arms and back over his shoulders, and was pleasantly surprised to find that he could take a deeper breath than before. So surprised that he didn’t even notice that Brody was buttoning his shirt until he was almost finished, and by then it seemed moot to complain. “Thanks,” he muttered, slipping his socked feet into his shoes and glancing up at the chuckle emanating from his new bodyguard. “What’s so funny?”

“I was just thinking that that must have hurt. You didn’t strain yourself, did you? I get a feeling that’s not a word you use very often,” Brody teased.

Nash’s gaze narrowed and he drew himself up a little taller. “Listen, Mr. Tyler. You’re here because my mother wishes it, and you’re new, so I’ll cut you a break—this time.” He could hear the coldness in his tone and he took a step toward Brody for effect. “But in future, remember to keep a civil tongue in your head when you speak to me. I don’t banter with the help.” Turning, he walked as purposefully from the room as he could, a small smile curving his lips at having put Brody firmly in his place,
positive he wouldn’t have any more trouble from him.

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