She picked up the menu then took in her surroundings again. The restaurant wasn’t as popular this evening as she’d noticed in passing on previous nights but it was possibly her last chance for some fine dining for a while. Across from her sat a pair of young lovers with eyes only for each other and to her right sat a man, perhaps several years younger than her. He was alone and reading a newspaper. Further away there were a couple of tables of four and that was it.

She ordered then spent time flicking through a couple of the tour brochures she’d brought with her. She’d found a few options for cheaper accommodation closer to town overlooking Roebuck Bay and planned to spend the next day transferring and settling in and booking tours to fill in the week. And after that…well, who knew?

The barramundi salsa verde was delicious with the fennel, rocket and orange salad and she was pondering the recipe when the waiter brought her a fresh glass of wine and removed her plate. She declined the offer of the sweets menu and had just raised the wine to her lips when she noticed the flare of a flame from the corner of her eye. She turned, gasped as she realised the newspaper the man had been reading had brushed a candle and was starting to burn. He noticed just as she did and began to pat at it with his hand. On instinct Natalie tossed her glass of wine over it, soaking the paper, the cloth and part of his shirt.

She put her fingers to her lips. “Oh, I’m sorry.”

A set of amused dark-brown eyes studied her. “It was my fault. Shouldn’t read the newspaper at the table.”

She smiled. “Not one with a candle on it anyway.”

The waiter returned and helped clean up.

“Please bring the lady another glass of wine,” the man said.

“Oh no.” Natalie shook her head.

“I insist.”

The waiter hovered.

“All right, thank you,” she said.

The man got up from his table and reached out a hand. “I’m Gabe.”

“Natalie.” She shook his hand.

“You’re on holidays?” He sat back down.

“Isn’t everyone here?” She chuckled then felt silly. She’d noticed over dinner the staff had been chatty with him in a different manner to that they used with other guests. “Are you connected with the place?”

“No. Tour guide. I stay here from time to time when I’m picking up or dropping off a group. They know me here.”

The waiter brought her wine and refilled the water glass Gabe had emptied before the fire.

“You planning some trips?” He glanced at the brochures she’d spread along the edge of the table.