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"What do you do now that you're retired from service?"
"Write mostly. Historical books. Nelson at the Battle of the Nile, The Admiralty in World War I, that sort of thing. Hardly the stuff best-sellers are made of, but there's a certain amount of prestige attached to it."
She looked at him strangely. "You're putting me on."
"I beg your pardon."
"Do you really write historical naval books?"
"Of course," he said innocently. "Why should I lie?"
"Incredible," murmured Heidi. "I do too, but I've yet to be published."
"I say, that is incredible," Shaw said, doing his best to appear properly amazed. Then he groped for her hand, found it and gave a light pressure. "When must you return to your ship?" He could feel her tremble slightly. "There's no rush."
He glanced at a large green sign with white letters as it flashed past. "Have you ever been to Santa Barbara?"
"No," she said in almost a whisper. "But I hear it's beautiful.
In the morning it was Heidi who ordered breakfast from room service. As she poured the coffee, she experienced a glowing warmth of delight. Making love to a stranger only a few hours after meeting him gave her an inner thrill she had not known before. It was a sensation that was peculiar to her.
She could easily recall the men she'd had: the frightened midshipman at Annapolis, her ex-husband, Admiral Walter Bass, Dirk Pitt, and now Shaw . . . she could see them all clearly, as if they were lined up for inspection. Only five, hardly enough to make up an army, much less a platoon.
Why is it, she wondered, the older a woman becomes, the more she regrets not having gone to bed with more men. She became annoyed with herself. She had been too careful in her single years, afraid to appear overly eager, never able to bring herself to indulge in a casual affair.
How silly of her, she thought. After all, she often felt she'd had ten times the physical pleasure of any man. Her ecstasy mushroomed from within. Men she knew had felt a sensation that was merely external.
They seemed to rely more on imagination and were frequently disappointed afterward. Sex to them was often no different from going to a movie; a woman demands much more . . . too much.
"You look pensive this morning," said Shaw. He pulled up her hair and kissed the nape of her neck.
"Suffering remorse in the cold light of dawn?"
"More like entranced in fond remembrance."
"When do you sail?"
"Day after tomorrow."
"Then we still have time together."
She shook her head. "I'll be on duty until we cast off."
Shaw walked over and stared through the sliding glass doors of their hotel room overlooking the ocean.
He could only see a few hundred feet. The Santa Barbara coastline was covered by a mantle of fog.
"A damned shame," he said wistfully. "We have so much in common."
She came over and slipped her arm around his waist. "What do you have in mind? Making love at night and researching by day?"
He laughed. "Americans and their direct humor. Not a bad idea though. We might very well complement each other. What exactly is it you're writing at the moment?"
"My thesis for a doctorate. The navy under President Wilson's administration."
"Sounds terribly dull."
"It is." Heidi went silent, a thoughtful look in her face. Then she said, "Have you ever heard of the North American Treaty?"
