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haven’t really lived in Oman at all.”
    “I haven’t lived here permanently since my mom died. My dad packed Elan and me off to boarding school overseas. I was young enough to adapt easily. I never really looked back.”
    “You didn’t miss your family.”
    “I didn’t miss my father. He was very strict and kind of mean. I guess I’m not the type to get hung up looking for Daddy’s approval. I made friends and moved on.”
    “And you’ve been moving on ever since.”
    He turned to her. “You think my nomadic lifestyle is the result of childhood psychological trauma?” He sounded serious, but she saw a twinkle in his eye.
    She shrugged. “I don’t know.” She wondered what depths lay beneath his cocky exterior. Was there a wounded little boy craving approval and love? “Where is home for you?”
    He shot her a glance with those piercing blue eyes. “Good question. Until recently it was L.A., but I just sold my condo there. Right now the only place I own is a house out in the desert here. I don’t know if I’d call it home since I just had it renovated, but I bought it as a place to put down some roots and reconnect with my heritage, so maybe I’m heading in the right direction.”
    “Or the wrong direction.” She laughed. “Do you really think Oman is your home now, or are you more comfortable in the United States? I feel more of a stranger here these days than I did in New Jersey. Moving around the world hasn’t made my life easier.”
    “How did you end up in America when your family is still here?”
    “My story’s not so different from yours. I was sent to live with my aunt in New Jersey when my mother died. The idea was that I would go to college there then come back and work in my father’s engineering firm while pursuing a suitable husband. I don’t think it occurred to my father that I could just switch majors and stay there.”
    “Did he mind?”
    “He went ballistic when I told him I wasn’t coming back to Oman. It took me a long time to pluck up the courage to admit that I’d majored in art history instead of engineering. Since I paid the bill myself with an inheritance from my mom he didn’t find out until it was too late.”
    She saw a smile tilt the edge of Quasar’s mouth. “So you’re a bit of a rebel.”
    “Only a very tiny bit.”
    “I wonder.” He gave her a mysterious look.
    She had been a rebel in choosing to chart her own course in life. The fact that she’d been blown right off it and ended up back here again made her wonder about her choices. She planned on sticking closer to the straight and narrow from now on. A degree in engineering certainly would present a lot more employment opportunities than her currently useless art history Ph.D.
    “We’re nearly there. It’s called Saliyah, after my sister-in-law Celia, who designed the grounds and ensnared the heart of my brother Salim.”
    “That’s so romantic.” They turned on to a side road in the desert. Spreading date palms cropped up to line the desolate road and cast lush shade over its dusty surface.
    She gasped at the sight of a large animal underneath a nearby tree. “Look, a camel.”
    Quasar laughed. “Salim’s always complaining about them. They eat his expensive landscaping. I figure he should just consider them part of the scenery and worth supporting. This place has been attracting a lot of visitors from overseas and they eat that stuff up.”
    The road led up to a high mud-brick wall with an elaborately carved arch. They entered and drove around a large circular fountain, where moving water sparkled like diamonds in the hot midday sun. Quasar helped her out of the car and it was whisked away by a valet while she blinked and adjusted to the bright light. They walked across a smooth courtyard of inlaid sandstone into a shady lobby that looked like the throne room of an ancient palace. Colorful mosaics covered the walls and lush seating arrangements were clustered around impressive botanical