Kissing Comfort by Jo Goodman

“Mathematics.”
    â€œReally.”
    â€œReally,” she said, repeating his intonation precisely. “Statistical calculation and analysis. Probability. The evaluation of risk. Applications for business, economics, and engineering. My degree says liberal arts, but all of my concentrations were in math.”
    â€œRemarkable.”
    Comfort felt another warning was in order. “It’s just that sort of condescension that contributed to you lying on that chaise.”
    Bode arched an eyebrow at her but said nothing. He sipped his tea.
    Comfort took another dainty sandwich, cucumber this time. “Your eye looks worse than it did last night.”
    â€œI know.”
    â€œDid someone give you ice for it?”
    â€œIce. Beefsteak.” He pointed to the plate of sandwiches. “Cucumber slices.”
    Comfort regarded her sandwich uneasily.
    â€œA different cucumber entirely, I’m sure.”
    Hungrier than she was skeptical, she plopped what was left of the bite in her mouth. “What about your back? You couldn’t rise when I came in.”
    â€œIt will be fine. I’m going to work tomorrow.”
    â€œDo you think that’s wise? It doesn’t appear that you were able to sleep in your own bed.”
    â€œThat’s not my bed. At least it hasn’t been for years. My bed has some support, like this chaise.”
    â€œThen it’s true what they say about you?”
    â€œEnlighten me.”
    â€œYou sleep on a bed of nails.”
    â€œI eat them, too. And spit rust.”
    She laughed and realized quite suddenly that she was enjoying herself. Perhaps it was that he only had one steely eye. The intensity of the blue-violet glint had been reduced by half, and he hadn’t so much as turned it on her once.
    â€œWhat do you do at your offices?” she asked.
    â€œAs little as possible,” he said. “I prefer being away from them. My interest is the ships. Talking to the masters. Inspecting. Looking over the cargo.”
    She was certain he had employees for those things, so if he did them, it was because he really wanted to be out of doors.
    â€œThere are meetings, I suspect.”
    â€œMm. Too many. Deals. Contracts. Agreements to be settled with a handshake.” He felt his jaw tighten. “Or with the turn of a card.”
    â€œThat really happens?”
    â€œSometimes.” He wanted to shrug, but his shoulders were suddenly too tight to make it appear careless. He sought a neutral tone instead and was glad to find it. “It’s San Francisco.”
    She nodded, understanding. She’d seen lots of valuables traded or sold in the gambling tents and mining camps, and she’d been witness to what never should have been bought or sold in the cribs and whorehouses.
    â€œBram told me you used to be master on the Artemis Queen ,” she said. “Do you miss it?”
    â€œSometimes.” Almost always, he could have said. Admitting it would have been indulgent. “What do you know about the Artemis ?”
    â€œWhat everyone knows, I suppose. She’s your flagship. The most beautiful ship in the fleet. At least I think she’s the most beautiful. I don’t know if that’s what makes her a flagship.”
    Bode wondered if she’d accept an invitation to go aboard. He didn’t extend the offer, though it would have been interesting to see her reaction. The Artemis Queen was weeks out from completing her China run. There was still plenty of time to consider it. “What do you do at your offices?” he asked. “Besides learn the name of every person who has an account at Jones Prescott.”
    â€œI review the city papers from the previous day so I can follow up on the important stories. News out of the legislature and governor’s office, for instance. Railroad expansion. Who is getting federal land grants. All of the things that influence interest rates and