She was not the first. Almost every woman who ever visited Pitt’s unusual living quarters was drawn to the Talbot. He saw it as a masterpiece of mechanical art, but women felt a sensual attraction when they gazed upon it. Once they saw the sleek, almost feline, flow of the body, sensed the fierce power of the engine, and smelled the elegant leather of the interior, the car became an erotic symbol.

“How did you find me?” he asked, his voice echoing around the vast interior.

She looked up. “I studied your packet for two days before I flew out to the Pacific and boarded the Invincible.”

“Find anything interesting?” he asked, annoyed that his life was laid bare for anyone with the authority to break his privacy.

“You’re quite a guy,

“Flattery indeed.”

“Your car collection is breathtaking.

“There are many larger collections with more expensive models and makes.”

She turned back to the Talbot-Lago. “I love this one.”

“I prefer the green town car next to it.”

Stacy turned and peered at the Stutz as if she was studying a manikin modeling a dress at a fashion show. Then she shook her head. “Handsome but massive, too masculine for a woman’s taste.”

Then she stared up at him again. “Can we talk?”

“If I can stay awake. Come on up.”

She climbed the circular stairs, and he gave her a brief tour of the apartment. “Can I get you a drink?” Pitt asked.

“No thanks.” She stared at him, and compassion came to her eyes. “I shouldn’t have come. You look like you’re about to collapse.”

“I’ll bounce back after a good night’s sleep,” he said ruefully. “What you need is a good back rub,” she said unexpectedly.

“I thought you came to talk.”

“I can talk while I rub. Swedish or shiatsu? What method of massage do you prefer?”

“What the hell, do both.

She laughed. “All right.” She took him by the hand and led him into the bedroom and pushed him facedown on the bed. “Take off your robe.”

“Can’t I keep my modesty with a sheet?”

“You have something I haven’t seen before’?” she said, pulling the sleeves of the robe from his arms.

He laughed. “Don’t ask me to turn over.

“I wanted to apologize before Tim and I leave for the West Coast,” she said seriously.

“Tim?”

“Dr. Weatherhill.”

“You’ve worked together before, I assume.

“Yes.”

“Will I see you again sometime?” he asked.

“I don’t know. Our missions may take us in different directions.” She hesitated a moment. “I want you to know I feel badly about the trouble I’ve caused. You saved my life, and because I took up extra space in the last submersible, you almost lost yours.”

“A good massage and we’ll call it even,” Pitt said, flashing a tired smile.

She looked down on his outstretched body. “For living underwater for four months, you have a good tan.”

“My gypsy blood,” he slurred in a sleepy voice.

Using finger pressure of the basic shiatsu technique, Stacy pressed her fingers and thumbs into the sensitive areas of Pitt’s bare feet.

“That feels great,” he murmured. “Did Jordan brief you on what we learned about the warheads?”

“Yes, you threw him a curve. He thought you had walked out on him. Now that Tim and I know exactly where to target our investigation, we should make good progress at pinpointing the bomb cars.”

“And you’re going to probe the West Coast ports.”

“Seattle, San Francisco, and Los Angeles are the ports where the Murmoto auto carriers dock.”

Pitt went silent as Stacy worked up his legs, combining shiatsu with Swedish kneading methods. She massaged his arms, back, and neck. Then she lightly slapped him on the buttocks and ordered him to turn over, but there was no response.

Pitt was dead asleep.

Sometime during the early morning hours he came awake, feeling her body wildly entangled with his. The movements, the sensations, the soft cries of Stacy’s voice, came through the mist of exhaustion like a dream. He felt as though he was soaring through a thunder and lightning storm before it all faded and he plunged into the black void of deep sleep again.

“Surprise, sleepyhead,” said Congresswoman Loren Smith, trailing a finger down Pitt’s back.

Pin’s mind brushed away the cobwebs as he rolled onto his side and looked up at her. She was sitting cross-legged in bare feet on the empty side of the bed wearing a flowered cotton knit top with a crew neckline and sage-green sailcloth pants with pleats. Her hair was tied back with a large scarf.

Then suddenly he remembered and shot an apprehensive look at the opposite side of the bed. To his lasting relief, it was empty.

“Aren’t you supposed to be doing wondrous deeds in Congress?” he asked, secretly pleased Stacy had left before Loren arrived.

“We’re in recess.” She held a cup of coffee out of his reach, tempting him.

“What do I have to do for the coffee?”

“Cost you a kiss.”

“That’s pretty expensive, but I’m desperate.”

“And an explanation.”

Here it comes, he thought, quickly focusing his thoughts. “Concerning what?”

“Not what but who. You know, the woman you spent the night with.”

“What woman was that?” he asked with practiced innocence.

“The one who slept in this bed last night.”

“You see another woman around here?”

“I don’t have to see her,” said Loren, taking great delight in teasing him. “I can smell her.”

“Would you believe it was my masseuse’

She leaned down and gave him a long kiss. When she finally pulled back, she handed him the coffee and said, “Not bad. I’ll give you an A for creativity.”

“I was conned,” he said, hoping to change the flow of the conversation. “This cup is only half full.”

“You didn’t want me to spill it all over your blankets, did you?” She laughed as if actually enjoying Pitt’s indiscretion. “Drag your great hairy bod out of bed and wash off that perfume. Not a bad odor, I admit. Rather expensive. I’ll start breakfast.”

Loren was standing at the counter slicing the grapefruit as Pitt came out of the shower for the second time in eight hours. He wrapped a towel around his hips, stepped up behind her, and circled his arms around her waist. He nuzzled her neck.

“Long time, no see. How did you ever get along without me for so long?”

“I buried myself in legislation and forgot all about you.”

“You didn’t find time to play?”

“I was a good girl. Not that I’d have been bad if given half the chance, especially if I knew you weren’t wasting any time since coming home.”

Loren bore up quite well, Pitt thought. There was only a slight flush of jealous anger. But she knew better than to crowd the issue. Pitt was not the only man in her life. Neither dictated to the other or displayed undue jealousy, situations that made their affair all the more desirable.

As he nibbled her earlobe, she turned and put her arms around his neck. “Jim Sandecker told me about the destruction of your project, and how you barely escaped.”

“That’s supposed to be secret,” he said as they brushed noses.

“Congresswomen do have privileges.”

“You can have privileges with me any time.”

Her eyes turned dark. “Seriously, I’m sorry the facility was lost.”

“We’ll build another.” He smiled down at her. “The results of all our tests were saved. That’s what counts.”

“Jim said you came within seconds of dying.”

Pitt grinned. “Water under the bridge, as they say.” He released her and sat down at the table. It seemed just another Sunday morning domestic scene between a comfortably married man and his wife, yet neither Loren nor Dirk had ever been married.

He picked up a newspaper she’d bought along with the groceries and scanned the stories. His eyes stopped at one article, and after scanning its contents he looked up.