“You are a lot like him.” She thought it was cute how Wesley tried to never say Søren’s name. “You both worry about me too much.”

“Anyone who’s ever met you worries about you,” Wesley countered.

“And you’re both blonds. Except you’ve got dark blond hair and his is light blond.”

“Well, he’s Swedish or whatever.”

“Danish. His mother was Danish and his father was English. Between the two of them, he’s the least American American I’ve ever met. Another thing you two have in common—you’re both musicians.”

Wesley eyed her suspiciously. “Does he play guitar, too?”

“Piano. He could have been a concert pianist, but now he just plays for fun.”

“He’s one of those perfect guys, right?” Wesley asked, crossing his arms. “His hair’s never messed up, he never spills anything, never trips.”

Nora nodded. “If that’s your definition of perfect, he does qualify. I’ve lost track of the number of languages he speaks. And he can be very witty and charming when he wants to be. And he’s ludicrously handsome. He’s also pretentious and conceited.”

Wesley grinned at her. “Keep going.”

“And he’s never ridden a horse in his life much less some of the biggest, meanest, scariest stallions on the planet. And,” she said, reaching out for Wesley’s T-shirt again, “he doesn’t make me laugh and smile every single day like a certain someone I know.”

Wesley raised his arms and Nora pulled his T-shirt off. Just to make it fair she unbuttoned her blouse and let it join Wesley’s shirt on the floor. Wesley seemed to be trying very hard not to stare at her wearing just her jeans and bra.

“So we’re shooting for here?” she asked and touched a spot on his stomach a few inches above Wesley’s belly button.

“Yeah. That’s noon.”

“Gotcha.” She flicked noon with her fingers hard enough Wesley flinched.

“Ouch!” He laughed. Nora flicked again.

“What are you doing?”

“In S&M, if you’re about to give someone a beating, you start off soft to desensitize the skin. A little pain at first can prevent a lot of pain later.” She kept flicking until their target spot had turned bright red.

“This might be worse than the needle.”

Nora looked at him and raised her eyebrows.

“Okay, I see what you did there,” Wesley said and Nora finally stopped flicking him. “Now what?”

“Take this and turn around,” she ordered, handing him his insulin pen. “Lean back against me.”

Wesley turned his back to her and Nora wrapped her arms around him. His young skin was smooth and warm, and when the swell of her breasts made contact with his back, she sensed him shiver. She reminded herself she was trying to help him, not seduce him.