A Pinch of Kitchen Magic by Sandra Sookoo Page B

comment. “It’s creepy
and it manifests itself at the most inopportune times.” Her cheeks
warmed at the remembrance of the silverware drawer that had spewed
its contents at her that morning.
    “ It doesn’t; you’ve just
chosen not to recognize it before now.”
    “ Annoying.”
    “ Factual. First you must
understand what the power is that you possess.” He gripped her
shoulders and then turned her around to face him. “It’s not
electricity, though it may feel like that feat of nature at times.
It’s more like a relative to telekinesis.” He took one of her hands
in his. Matteus dropped his gaze to her palm before slamming it
back to hers. “You burned yourself trying to control the energy
current, didn’t you?”
    “ Yes.” Aidan licked her
dry lips and nodded. “I was attempting to make pizza. As soon as I
dumped the ingredients for the dough into the bowl, I felt a
tingling in my fingertips. After that, a spark flew from my finger
and zapped my palm.” Her skin prickled as he continued to hold her
hand in his. He was close enough to her that she could smell his
unique scent: a mixture of the air just before a rainstorm and
sweet basil.
    Oh man! She had a weakness for the Italian herb. So much
so, she kept two ten inch pots of the aromatic plant just outside
her back door.
    “ This is why I’m here.” He
massaged her hand with nimble fingers then blew on her pale ivory
skin.
    She shivered at the light touch, but
the pain from the burn ebbed. “Was that magic?”
    “ Perhaps. Let’s start at
the beginning.” He released her to glance around. “I’m assuming you
are very much into the kitchen arts?”
    Aidan followed his gaze. What did he
think of the bunches and bundles of dried herbs hanging upside down
on one wall? “Let’s say I’m enthusiastic about cooking. I’d love to
be a world famous chef one day.” She rolled her eyes when he gave
her an intense look. “I’m what’s known as a foodie, but that
doesn’t mean I can cook, it just means I’m a big fan.”
    “ You’re a woman, not a
device made to cool a room.”
    “ Oh, brother.” To escape
his smoldering glance, she turned her attention to her burn. She
marveled at her hand. The injury was gone, the skin smooth and
unmarred. “That’s cool.”
    “ You’re welcome. Why do
you continue to attempt assembling meals if you’re not good at
it?”
    She stifled a sigh. He’d be difficult.
“I enjoy it. I try to cook but usually end up ordering take out.”
She stood rooted to the floor near the sink. “I follow directions;
I read the recipes thoroughly before beginning, yet every time
something disastrous happens. My mind is caught up in fuzzy
thoughts of things I’ve never seen. Fantastic places, colorful
foods, or exotic people.” She swallowed. “Or sometimes in my
dreams, I can almost taste different foods, feel the cloth of the
clothing people wear or even hear their countries of origin in
their voices except I’ve never seen or met any of these people or
places.”
    Matteus was silent as he scanned the
utensil-cluttered countertops. His gray eyes were no less intense
than when he studied her. “I see.” He ran a fingertip through a
dusting of flour on the top of the butcher block. “When did your
awareness of magic begin?”
    “ On my thirtieth birthday,
two days ago.”
    “ And?”
    “ My Aunt Hettie told me
long ago if I exhibited signs of other-worldliness, I should call
the Institute. After it happened, I called the number she made me
commit to memory when I was twelve.” She frowned. “She’s a witch,
isn’t she? She never would answer me directly when I
asked.”
    “ With is a broad term.”
His lips twitched. “I remember Hettie. She’s a great teacher. I
took one of her summer classes on Astral Projection. She’s a very
insightful woman and the Institute was sad to see her
go.”
    “ You know her?” The
anxiety that gripped her chest melted away. She drifted toward the
island. He couldn’t