“Weeelll…”

Mitch couldn’t seem to stop watching her. Somewhere amid all those grossly contorted features was an unusual pair of sherry-brown eyes-big, deep-set and heavily lashed. Neither the bulky red sweater nor her ridiculously hunched shoulders could hide a distinctly feminine set of curves. His eyes lazily drifted from the small rainbow patch on the fanny of her jeans to her soft white throat to the arch of her delicate brows. Her hair was sort of brown, half honey and half coffee-colored, and he speculated that she must normally wear it simply curling to her shoulders. It was hard to tell, when at the moment, it was sticking out in a witch’s tangle.

But it was easy to see the luster of it, as it caught the dull day’s light from the windows. It was also easy to see that she must be a few years younger than he was, and that she was working her little tail off to entertain Peter. Warmth and compassion radiated from her like sun rays. So did a certain spice of humor, and a natural vibrancy that tugged at his curiosity. And if her face would just stand still long enough for him to be sure, he had a sneaky feeling that she had a very special brand of beauty.

Peter was clearly in love with her. “And they lived happily ever after,” he finished for her. “But I still don’t understand how the monster never got to eat a cookie before. His mom would have given him lots of them.” The little boy chewed on his lower lip. “My mom…” His smile abruptly faltered. “I want,” he said, very quietly, very firmly, “my mom.”

“I know you do, sweetheart.” Aching for him, Kay reached out her fingers to brush the wiry carrot-colored hair off his forehead.

“I want her now.” The blue eyes filled up. “They keep telling me she’s okay. She’s not okay. You don’t know my mom. She’d have been here if she knew something had happened to me. I want-”