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really talked about it with anyone here in town.”
    “The other night when we had dinner with Kira and Caleb.” He took a sip of tea.
    “Yes.”
    “I sensed you were reading their minds.”
    Actually I had been doing exactly that. All I got were sexy images of the two of them intertwined and I put up the shields. From what I knew, their relationship hadn’t gone that far, but they were definitely thinking about it.
    “They’re my friends and only recently got together. Guess I got a little curious. Now what do you mean by sensed ?”
    Sam shifted in his chair. He started to speak but stopped as Ms. Johnnie delivered our food. After she left, I picked up the conversation. I had to know exactly what he knew.
    “So, about the whole sensing thing…”
    “I’m a warlock. I know, I should have said something when we met the other night.” He put both hands up this time in a stop motion that would have made the Supremes envious. “I don’t practice. No one in my family has for the last hundred years or so. We’ve all become doctors and healers. Like most witches and warlocks, I do have some natural ability besides healing. One of those is reading emotions. I’m an empath.”
    Okay, here’s the deal: I’m prejudiced when it comes to warlocks, whether they practice magic or not. It’s been my personal experience that men can’t handle their magic. The power’s too much for them and they more often than not succumb to the dark side.
    My biggest problem with Sam being a nonpracticing warlock is that I didn’t sense he held power. Well, I knew there had to be something about him. Usually I can feel a warlock from a mile away. Sam had to have ironclad shields for it not to rub off on me in some way. And it hadn’t. Kind of like the guy in Oslo, who zapped me with the black sludge before I could respond.
    And in a way, if Sam held those shields in place, he did practice magic. I knew before I ever walked in there what he was, but I had hoped I was wrong.
    “Why did your family turn away from the craft?” I tried to act casual, but I was angry. And disappointed. If a warlock he be, off the sex list he goes. And it’s a very short list these days.
    “My great-grandfather practiced in his younger days, but felt he could do more good working as a surgeon. He used his power of healing to make a real difference. My grandfather and father followed in his footsteps, except my dad went into psychiatry. He uses his ability to gauge human emotion by helping people understand their lives.”
    “And you’ve never studied or practiced magic?” I watched his face and something shifted in his eyes.
    “Oh, yes, I studied. I thought it important to understand my heritage and how to use my powers if needed. But I’ve never had any real cause to use them except for healing.”
    Damn. He wasn’t telling me the truth. He’d used his powers for something other than healing. I could probe his mind, but knew he would know I was doing it.
    “How about your parents?” He shifted again in his seat.
    “My father is a neurosurgeon and my mother turned away from the craft when she decided to teach English at NYU a few years ago. They never discouraged me from seeking my own path into magic.
    “For the last three hundred years all the women of the O’Hurley family, my mother’s clan, have been born witches. It has always been left to the individual whether or not she wants to practice.
    “The last high witch in our family was born two hundred years ago, so we were all surprised when my powers came in at seventeen.”
    He smiled. “I can’t even imagine what that must have been like for you. So much power, so young.”
    I shrugged. “My mom says that a high witch is born knowing what to do and I believe she’s right. I blew a few things up by accident at first, but for the most part I’ve always known how to keep the power in check.”
    Ms. Johnnie showed up with pie. Chocolate cream for me, and apple for Sam. We dug in. At