Interrupted Magic by Karla Brandenburg (best reads of all time .TXT) 📕

there must be a reason. Maybe it’s a matter of timing.” Her voice lowered. “Or partner.”

I’d as much as told her Kyle and I were finished. “Something you’d like to say?” I asked.

“It’s not my life to live, sweet Brynn. I can’t see into the future any better than you can.”

“But you sense a change in the air.”

She waved a dismissive hand. “That could be any number of things.”

Yes, and things between me and Kyle had changed already. What had triggered her intuition?

Chapter 12

After Nora left, I crossed the street to Kyle’s house. We had a conversation to finish. He opened the door, but didn’t invite me in.

A gust of wind blew my hair across my face and I tucked it behind my ear. “I know it’s still early, but I was wondering if you’d like me to make dinner for you tonight, say in a couple of hours? Since you’re working with one arm. We are still friends, aren’t we?”

“I’m going out with Dylan.”

I frowned. “Any word from Daria?”

“Not yet.” He lowered his eyes. “Look, I’m sorry...”

He didn’t finish his thought, and I was impatient with his moodiness. “Let me know if you can arrange a meeting with her and we’ll fix this.” I turned to walk away.

“Brynn,” he called after me.

I faced him. “I have to fix this thing with Daria.”

He nodded.

I returned to my house. The recipe I’d mixed for Daria was still in the bean pot. I poured what remained into a bottle. The only thing missing for the ‘antidote’ was the fenugreek. No time like the present to find the missing ingredient so I’d be ready if or when Daria materialized.

After checking the location for the Indian market in Woodrow, I headed out. Twenty minutes later, I turned into the parking lot of a strip mall and parked near the shop with Gupta’s Market stenciled in the window.

Haunting Bollywood music greeted me—a woman’s clear voice slipping over lovely notes, accompanied by a tambourine and rhythmic drums. I worked my way to what appeared to be a produce section, where I found packages of cardamom, cumin seeds and turmeric.

An older gentleman with a long gray beard wearing traditional Indian attire approached. “Please, I can help you find something?”

“Yes,” I replied. “Do you sell fenugreek?”

He gave me a disapproving look and crossed his arms. “You may find supplements at Walmart.”

“I’m not looking for supplements, I’m looking for leaves.”

He cocked his head, as if assessing me, and then stroked his beard.

A deep male voice spoke from behind me. “Trouble with the husband?”

“I’m not married,” I said as I turned.

My jaw dropped, gazing at the most beautiful man I’d ever seen. I guessed him to be six-foot-two. His dark brown hair hung in tousled waves to his shoulders. He had a trace of a beard—more like he hadn’t shaved in a day or two—a wide nose and beautiful eyes. He took my hand and kissed my knuckles, sending a rush of lust through me.

“How very fortunate for me,” he said. “What are you planning to make with your fenugreek?”

My brain seemed to have short-circuited. “I-I-I.” I swallowed hard to regroup. “I needed it for a recipe.”

The man’s eyes shone, the same way Nora’s did and, I suspected, the same way people told me mine did. He shared the gift of hidden magic. A man? Then again, there had been men at the summer solstice celebration, just not as many as there were women.

“You do know fenugreek is said to be used for virility,” he said.

I cocked an eyebrow. “Do I look like I want to be virile?”

The shopkeeper walked away with a snort. “Ian will help you find what you need,” he said over his shoulder.

“Ian? You work here?” I asked the man before me. He looked more European than Indian, although that shouldn’t make a difference to his employment at an Indian market.

He laughed. “No, but I might as well, considering how often I shop here. Where do you normally buy your herbs?”

A sure indication he’d seen the magic in me, as well. “I grow most of my own.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Lucky you. I’d love to see your garden sometime.” Why did that sound like a pick-up line? Or did I want it to be? He reached across me for a package on the refrigerated shelf and I caught a whiff of wintergreen. “This is what you’re looking for, but I’m curious. What are you using it for?”

“I was told this would counter the effects of another recipe.”

Our hands touched as he handed me the package. His pupils dilated and I found myself short of breath.

“It smells pretty strong,” I said. “Like wintergreen?”

He grinned, reached into his pocket and held out a wrapped LifeSaver. “No, the herb smells like maple. I just popped a mint, an addiction of mine, I’m afraid. Would you like one?”

“No, thank you.”

He lowered his voice. “This is a powerful herb, especially in leaf format.”

My own voice came out breathy. “You’ve used it?”

He shook his head, his gaze locked with mine. “What effects do you need to counter?”

All coherent thought left my head. In fact, I was overcome with the desire to kiss this beautiful man—and more than kiss him. I didn’t have to think long. Ian bent down and touched his lips to mine, tenuous at first and then he took a step closer, wrapped an arm around me as he deepened the kiss. He tasted of the wintergreen I’d detected, and smelled like the woods after a rainfall.

“You will buy the leaves and leave my store now,” the shopkeeper called from the cash register. “This is not the place for such things.”

“I know a place,” Ian whispered against my lips.

What was happening to me? Was the herb so powerful? I sniffed, checking for scents I couldn’t identify. Peaches. Strawberries. Fresh bundles of basil. Ian’s mint. Nothing unusual. Ian said the fenugreek had a maple smell, but that was one thing I didn’t detect. I was afraid to crack the