Kissing Comfort by Jo Goodman Page B

suspicious. He remained quiet on that count. It was simpler to accept Comfort’s statement than to explain his differences with it.
    Comfort couldn’t surmise the direction of his thoughts, but she recognized that he was in considerable pain. Because she couldn’t be sure how much her actions on the dance floor had exacerbated his injury, she felt compelled to offer him some relief even if he didn’t entirely deserve it.
    â€œLie on the floor,” she directed without explanation.
    Bode stared at her.
    Comfort repeated herself, but this time with a deliberate pause between each word.
    â€œI heard you,” he said. “I even understood. What I don’t know is why you want me to do it.”
    â€œYou’ll have to trust that I mean to help.” Her eyebrows lifted a notch. She said, “Well?”
    Bode recognized the challenge in her expression. What he honestly didn’t know was whether or not he was up to it. Until Comfort arrived, Travers had attended him throughout the day, bearing some of his weight as he hobbled to the bathing room to see to his morning ablutions and personal needs. Travers suggested that he remain in the borrowed nightclothes, robe, and slippers while he recuperated, but he insisted on dressing because he’d woken up with a plan already fully formed that would bring Comfort around.
    Setting his jaw to keep from grimacing, Bode pushed himself as upright as he could manage and swung his legs over the side of the chaise. He caught Comfort staring at his feet.
    â€œYou really should remove your shoes,” she said. “Shall I help you?”
    â€œI’d rather keep them on.”
    â€œAll right.” She tucked her smile on the inside of her mouth. How many times, she wondered, had Bram told her that his brother could be fastidious? Is this what he’d meant? Whether it was a demonstration of manners or modesty, or simply that he didn’t want to reveal a hole in one of his socks, Comfort found it an unexpectedly appealing aspect of his character. Then again, perhaps it was only that he meant to be difficult.
    Bode got on the floor by sliding off the chaise and going straight to his knees. He began to lean back, but Comfort put out an arm to stop him.
    â€œYou’ll have to take off your jacket,” she told him. “That’s not negotiable. And lie on your stomach. I’ll find a towel for your head.”
    Bode watched as she stood and disappeared into the adjoining bath. She never looked back, obviously expecting that he wouldn’t make any sort of protest. He didn’t. In a careful series of shrugs, he managed to push his black frock coat over his shoulders so that it was hanging loosely at his elbows by the time Comfort returned. Without asking his permission, she freed his trapped arms and put the jacket on the chaise.
    â€œYour vest,” she said. “Come on. In for a penny, in for a pound.”
    â€œSpoken like a banker.”
    She didn’t believe he meant it as a compliment, so she didn’t thank him, and since his fingers had begun to fiddle with the buttons on his gray silk vest, she didn’t goad him to do the job more quickly. Judging where his head would be when he stretched out on the carpet, Comfort folded the towel and then placed it on the floor.
    â€œWalk forward using your hands for support,” she told him, taking his vest away.
    Bode couldn’t come up with a single good reason to do what she said. “I don’t think I—” Out of the corner of his eye he saw her skirts flutter. She was actually beating a tattoo against the floor with the toe of her boot. He glanced up. Sure enough, her impatience was also visible in the flat line of her mouth and in the tight fold of her arms across her chest. “Is it generally known that you have tendencies toward the tyrannical?”
    Comfort unfolded her arms and let them fall to her sides, but her mouth did not soften