She went into her room and found her sunglasses and put them on. Returning to the balcony, she leaned on the railing and stared out at the boats in the blue Atlantic. Blue skies, blue water. It was all very restful. She regretted she wouldn’t be staying longer. But there would be time for that bath, and there would be the wonderful dinner promised by Magda, who with her husband Cyrus owned the Villa. And later, maybe, when the sun went down and the evening stole in, there’d be music in the courtyard.

Daria went into her bathroom and turned on the water in the tub, adding some of the sweetly scented bath crystals Magda had left for her. She stripped off her travel clothes and sank into the deliciously luxuriant bath and closed her eyes. It would take more than one bath to wash the desert sand from her pores, but for now, she was as content as she could be.

She idly wondered what Magda’s chef was preparing for dinner, and thought back to her last stay at the Villa and smiled. For more than a year, Magda had been trying to set her up with a man Magda had assured her was “perfect for you.” They’d finally met, months ago, and had shared a lovely evening in Magda’s courtyard.

He’d been everything her hostess had promised, tall and lean with dark hair cropped very short and dark blue eyes. And very handsome. Not the kind of man who generally noticed women like her, but he was gracious about dining with her at Magda’s insistence. He’d been very attentive throughout the meal and had seemed more interested in her and her work than in talking about himself, but, that was the polite thing to do. Magda had said he was well mannered for an American-which, as an American herself, had made Daria smile-and that he was one of her favorite guests.

Daria remembered that night as one of the best nights of her life.

“Hi,” he’d said when he approached the table.

“Hello.” She turned her face up to his, and her heart all but stopped beating.

“Mind if I join you?”

“Please.” She’d gestured to the chair opposite hers. “Magda said I might have a compatriot at my table tonight. Daria McGowan.”

She’d been acutely aware of how she must have looked to him, in her plain white shirt and khaki pants. No makeup, and her hair chopped short by her own hand.

“Connor Shields,” the beautiful man had introduced himself.

“I know. Magda brings up your name every time I’m here.”

“Nothing bad, I trust,” he said as he pulled out the chair.

“No, no. Just, ‘Daria, you really must meet Connor Shields. He’s American, like you.’”

He laughed. “I admit she’s used the same line on me.”

“So where are you from?” She nervously sipped her drink, bottled water and lemon juice.

“I was brought up in Virginia.”

“Ah, another Southerner. I’m from South Carolina. At least, that’s where my family home is now.”

“Where did you grow up?”

“Oh, let’s see.” She tilted her head to one side and pretended to think, then began to count on her fingers. “The Gobi Desert. Greece. Syria. Turkey. Afghanistan…”

“You have to be kidding.”

“Not so much. My parents both worked in the field a lot, so we traveled a lot. Stateside, we lived in Texas, Georgia, New Jersey -we stayed there the longest, actually had a house there. I went to school there. For a while, anyway. My parents both taught at Princeton. Mom, anthropology; Dad, archaeology. We never knew where we’d be, come summer.”

“Did you like that, traveling around so much?” He signaled for the waiter, then ordered a drink when one appeared.

“Are you kidding? We had adventures that other kids couldn’t even begin to dream about. We saw places most people have never even heard of. We loved it.”

The waiter appeared with Connor’s drink-bottled water with lime and mint, the local Muslim laws regarding alcohol being strictly enforced this time of the evening-and went over the evening’s dinner offerings. They both ordered baked sea bass, the chef’s special.

“You were telling me what it was like to have been a kid on the go,” he said, urging her to continue.

“It was tons of fun. There were four of us. My brothers, Sam and Jack, and my sister, Iona. We were a really tight band of four. How about you? Siblings?”

“I have…had…two brothers,” he told her.

“Had?”

“One of them died.”

“I’m so sorry.” She paused to study his face, and recognized the sadness in his eyes. “It’s very difficult, isn’t it, to lose a brother. He’s always there in the past, in your memories, but the present is just a big blank, as far as he’s concerned.”

“One of your brothers…?” he asked cautiously.

“Jack. Disappeared. He was on an expedition into the Amazon and just, poof! Vanished. My parents have sent trackers in to search for him at least a half-dozen times, but it’s as if he didn’t exist. As if he hadn’t been there at all.”

“How long ago?”

“Ten years. He’s been gone since 1997. I miss him every day. Think about him every day. Wonder if he’s dead or alive. My parents never give up. Every other year or so, they hire someone to go down there to look for him.”

“I have some connections in South America,” Connor said thoughtfully. “Maybe I can have someone look into it.”

“That’s really very nice of you, but I don’t want to waste anyone’s time.”

“You think he’s dead?”

“You send teams of professional trackers into the jungle where he supposedly had gone, and they come out with no more information than they went in with, you have to suspect that-”

“That he may well have gone somewhere else.”

She’d stared at him. When the waiter arrived to serve their dinners, she leaned back from the table silently.

“You’re not going to tell me that no one considered that possibility, are you?” Connor asked.

“Yes. I mean, no, no one did. He’d been with a group, and all the investigators followed the trail the members of the group had given them. To the camp, then to the ruins…”

“So maybe for some reason your brother-Jack, was it? Maybe he took off on his own, or joined another group, or got lost and is out there somewhere.”

“I’d like to think that. That somehow he’s out there and that someday we’ll see him again.”

“I’d be happy to make some inquiries. Really. It’s no trouble. I have some contacts in the area.”

“That would be very kind of you. Thank you. I’ll get you all of the information-when and where and with whom.”

She tasted the fish, and smiled. “This is so good. Is there a better chef in all North Africa than Claude?”

“Not for my money, no.” He appeared thoughtful for a moment before asking, “Have you ever taken an evening horseback ride on the beach?”

“Several times. You?”

“Yes, but the camel rides are more fun.”

“Ugh.” She wrinkled her nose. “I spend enough of my time on camels.”

“Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it. There’s nothing like watching the sun set on the Atlantic from the back of one of those large, swaying-”

“Mr. Shields?” A man had appeared at his elbow. “You are Mr. Shields?”

“Yes.” Connor nodded.

“The Madame asked me to give this to you. It was dropped off at the front desk.”

He handed Connor an envelope bearing his name.

“Thank you,” Connor told him. To Daria, he said, “Excuse me, I just need to…”

“Go right ahead.”

Connor opened the envelope and read the note that had been tucked inside. When he was finished, he folded it, returned it to the envelope, and slid it into the inside pocket of his jacket.

“Daria, I really hate to cut this short,” he said. “I’ve been enjoying this evening more than I can say, but I’m going to have to make my apologies.”

“I hope it’s nothing serious?”

“No, no. This is business.” He stood. “I’m really sorry. Maybe tomorrow?”

“I’m leaving in the morning.” She smiled to hide her disappointment. “It’s all right, if you have to go. I understand. We all have those emergencies to deal with from time to time.”