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Shaw easily picked her out in an admiring circle of white uniformed naval officers. She looked to be in her mid-thirties and radiated a warmth that escaped most women. She seemed to accept the attention naturally without any sign of caprice. Shaw liked what he saw at first glance.
"Perhaps I can smooth the way by separating her from the horde," said Humberly.
"Don't bother," replied Shaw. "By the way, do you have a car I might borrow?"
"I h
ave a fleet. What have you got in mind, a chauffeured limousine?"
"Something with more spirit."
Humberly thought a moment. "Will a Rolls-Royce Corniche convertible be appropriate?"
"It should do nicely."
"You'll find it in the drive. A red one, The keys will be in the ignition."
"Thank you."
"Not at all. Good hunting."
Humberly returned to his duties as host. Shaw moved toward the bar and shouldered his way up to Heidi Milligan. A blond young lieutenant gave him an indignant stare. "A bit pushy, aren't you, dad?"
Shaw ignored him and smiled at Heidi. "Commander Milligan, I'm Admiral Brian Shaw. May I have a word with you . . . alone."
Heidi studied his face a moment, trying to place him. She gave up and nodded. "Of course, Admiral."
The blond lieutenant looked as if he'd discovered his fly was open. "My apologies, sir. But I thought . . ."
Shaw flashed him a benevolent smile. "Always remember, lad, it pays to know the enemy."
"I like your style, Admiral," Heidi shouted over the roar of the wind.
Shaw's foot pressed the accelerator another half inch, and the Rolls surged north along the San Diego freeway. He'd had no specific destination in mind when he left the party with Heidi. Thirty years had passed since he last saw Los Angeles. He drove aimlessly, depending only on the direction signs, not at all sure where they would take him.
He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. Her eyes were wide and sparkling from exhilaration. He felt her hand grip his arm. "You better slow down," she yelled, "before you're stopped by a cop."
That he didn't need. Shaw eased off the gas pedal and let the car coast down to the legal speed limit. He turned on the FM radio and a Strauss waltz settled over the car. He started to change the station, but she touched his hand.
"No, leave it." She leaned back in the seat and gazed up at the stars. "Where are we going?"
"An old Scottish ploy," he laughed. "Abduct females to distant places . . . that way they must become interested in you if they want to get home."
"Won't work." She laughed. "I'm already three thousand miles away from home."
"Without a uniform too."
"Naval regulation: Lady officers are allowed to dress in civilian attire for social functions."
"Three cheers for the American navy."
She looked at him speculatively. "I've never known an admiral who drove a Rolls-Royce."
He smiled. "There are dozens of us on-the-beach, old British sea dogs who wouldn't be caught in any other car."
"Three cheers for your navy," she laughed.
"Seriously, I made a few wise investments when I commanded a naval depot in Ceylon."
