Kinsman grimaced. "I haven't been able to give love to anyone for years."

A new look came into her eyes. "Is that what happened to you? All those rumors ..."

He pulled her closer and kissed her. Gray-eyed Athena, goddess of wisdom and of war, I'll take you over treacherous Aphrodite every time. Their hands moved across each other's bodies, searching, opening, pulling clothes away.

Still half-dressed, he leaned her back on the couch and was on top of her, into her, before the picture of the dead cosmonaut could form in his mind. He heard her gasp and felt her clutching him, hard, furiously intense, alive, molten, burning all the old bad images out of his brain. Everything blurred together. He found himself sitting on the edge of the couch beside her, staring into those strong, wise gray eyes. Wordlessly she got to her feet and led him to the bedroom. She shut the door firmly. In silence they finished stripping and went to the bed. They made love and dozed, alternately, until the sun brightened the curtained windows.

"God," she murmured, and he could feel her breath on his cheek, "you're like a teenager."

"It's been a long time," he said. "I've got a lot of catching up to do."

He showered alone, and when he came back into the bedroom to dress she had gone. He found her in the kitchen, wrapped in a shapeless beige housecoat, munching a piece of dry toast as she sat at the counter that cut the room in half. An untouched glass of orange juice stood on the counter before her.

"Hungry?" she asked, wiping toast crumbs from her lips. "I'll get something from the cafeteria in the Pentagon," he said.

"Have some juice, at least." She pushed the glass toward him.

"Thanks," he said.

"Thank you."

Suddenly they were both embarrassed. Kinsman felt like a sheepish kid. Mary-Ellen stared down at the toast on her plate.

He did not know what to say. "I ... uh, guess I'd better be going now."

"It's awfully early. I don't think the buses are running this early."

He shrugged. "I'll walk for a while."

"Aren't you tired?"

And they both broke up. Kinsman lifted his head and roared. Mary-Ellen laughed with him,

"Tired? For God's sake, woman, I'm exhausted!"

"I should hope so," she said. "You had me scared for a minute, there."

She came around the counter and put an arm around his waist. He took her by the shoulders and together they walked through the parlor, toward the house's front door.

"I do thank you, Chet," Mary-Ellen said. "You've helped me to see myself—everything—in a new light."

"My pleasure."

"Not entirely yours."

"I ... feel kind of funny about it, though,"he admitted.

"Christ, it's almost like incest!"