Read Online Give Me Strength by Kate McCarthy - Free Book Online Page A

out of time. I got changed and she quickly curled my wispy
strands of hair, finishing by running her fingers through them to
make them look casually tousled. She then attacked my face with
some rosy pink blusher, mascara, and strawberry flavoured lip gloss
and pushed me in front of the mirror.
    “Ta da.”
    I stood in front of the mirror. The lemon yellow
strap of my bra was showing from where the shirt hung off my
shoulder, and I glared when Lucy suggested taking it off.
    “I look like a liquorice allsort,” I announced,
looking myself up and down critically.
    “Rubbish,” she snapped. “Well, maybe a little,
but who doesn’t love lollies? You can thank me later. I’ll let
myself out.”
    “Lucy, I don’t want to look like a lolly. I
don’t want Travis here at all.”
    That was a lie. Sort of. I didn’t know what I
wanted. The thought of seeing him had my heart racing a mile a
minute, reminding me of how I felt when I met Ethan. Only Ethan had
been so young, still growing into himself, whereas Travis was
older, packed with muscle, and one hundred percent pure man. His
body had tattoos and the scars of someone who’d lived hard.
    Lucy began shovelling all her tools back in her
suitcase and stopped to give me a dubious look. “Are you sure? Why
did you invite him then?”
    She zipped her suitcase and started making for
the door.
    “I didn’t invite—”
    “Gotta go, fairy princess. He’ll be here in five
minutes. Good luck. I’ll be over later to get the lowdown.” With a
roll of her wheels and a slam of the door, she was gone. I took a
deep breath before returning to the kitchen. I opened a packet of
pasta and poured it into the boiling pot of water.
    The knock came just as I was pouring another
glass of fortifying wine. I’d never drunk so much in twenty-four
hours in my life. Apparently that was what being Jack Bauer did to
you.
    I ran my hands through my tousled curls,
inspected my shirt for spots, and exhaling slowly, opened the
door.
    Travis stood there, one hand in his pocket, the
other tapping an envelope impatiently against his leg. My lips
pressed together before a breathy, little moan could escape.
Tonight’s fitted T-shirt was another band, but this time I could
clearly see it as Jamieson. A pair of mirrored aviators hung
casually in the neckline and long, light beige cargo shorts rode
low on his hips. His hair was scraped back in a tie, but a blond
strand had escaped and fell down the side of his face.
    Travis froze, the impatient tapping of the
envelope halting against his leg. His rich, green eyes widened on
my face, recognition lighting their depths. His lids lowered as
they tracked slowly down the length of me. My cheeks heated under
the blatant perusal as his eyes worked their way back up to meet
mine.
    He cleared his throat. “Quinn?”
    I repressed a shiver at the memories his voice
evoked, aiming for a nonchalant expression by trying to relax the
nerves that locked my body tight. It wasn’t working. My hand was
gripped so tight on the door handle my fingers would need to be
pried away.
    I nodded, the movement jerky and awkward.
“Travis.”
    His brow furrowed with confusion. “You’re Mac’s
new assistant?”
    Sighing softly, I replied, “That would be
me.”
    A beat of time passed, and then another, as
though Travis was somehow coming to terms with this freak
coincidence. I shifted my legs as I tried to think of something to
say that would fill the charged silence.
    “I’m Mac’s older brother,” he told me.
    “Great,” I stated brightly, plastering a smile
on my lips that didn’t reach my eyes. I went to take the envelope
from his hands when I heard a sizzle and crackle coming from the
kitchen.
    “Oh shit, the pasta!”
    Abandoning the doorway in a rush for the stove,
I found the saucepan boiling over, water running down and hitting
the gas cooktop with hissing sparks.
    “Crap,” I muttered, flinching when steamy drops
splattered my hand. I yanked it off the stove