But you sleep with him anyway. Kinsman growled silent- ly. In her home. Aloud, he asked, "Are they going to get a divorce?"

Diane pushed her hair back away from her face with an automatic gesture. "I don't know. We'll see what happens after his re-election campaign next year."

Kinsman pictured Neal campaigning through the state, the solid family man with his wife and two children by his side and Diane waiting for him in motel rooms.

"I think I'm pregnant," she said in a small, almost frightened voice.

"Jesus Christ."

"I can't let anyone know it's Neal's baby. He doesn't know it himself yet."

"What'll you do?"

She shook her head. "I don't know. Have an abortion. I guess."

"And he invited you up to the space station. It wasn't just public relations." He put a slight emphasis on the word public. "It's a chance to be with you."

"Your people in the Pentagon don't know about this, do they?" Diane asked. "I mean, if they did they could use it to pressure Neal to vote their way . . ."

He looked up at her. "Diane—I'm one of those Penta- gon people."

"But you're his friend. You wouldn't . . ."

"I'm Mary-Ellen's friend, too."

"She doesn't want him hurt."

"Yeah."

Diane swung off the bed and sat on her heels beside Kinsman, on the floor. "Chet . . . you're my friend, too. You wouldn't hurt the three of us, would you?"

"And what about me? What do I get?"

Diane reached out and put a hand on his shoulder.

He wanted to laugh. "When you came tapping at my chamber door, I had the crazy notion that you had come all the way down from New York to see me, to be with me."

"That was part of it," she said.

"I wanted you, Diane. I really did. I needed you."

"I'm here."

He brushed her hand away. "No, Not as a bribe. Not because Neal's home with his wife and you're lonely. Not to make me think there's a chance you might leave him for me."

"Chet . . . what can I do? What can I say?"

"Nothing. Not a damned thing."