Why Resist a Rebel?

TWO

It took all of Ruby’s strength to follow Paul up the small flight of brick steps to the production office. She literally had to remind herself to place one foot in front of the other, as her body really, really wanted to carry her in the opposite direction. Away from the scene of unquestionably one of the most humiliating moments of her career. Her life, even.

How could she not have recognised him?

Only the possibility that any attempted escape could lead her back to Devlin Cooper stopped her. Oh—and the fact she kind of loved her career.

As they walked down the narrow hallway of the dilapidated cottage/temporary production office, Paul explained in twenty-five words or less that Mr Cooper was replacing Todd, effective immediately. That was it—no further explanation.

By now they’d made it to Paul’s makeshift kitchen-cum-office at the rear of the cottage. Inside stood Sal, the line producer, and Andy, the production manager. They both wore matching, serious expressions.

It was enough to force Ruby to pull herself together. She needed to focus on the job at hand—i.e. coordinating this movie with a completely new star.

‘I have to ask,’ asked Andy, his fingers hooked in the belt loops of his jeans. ‘How the hell did you get Devlin Cooper to take this role?’

Ruby thought Paul might have rolled his eyes, but couldn’t be sure. ‘Let’s just say that the opportunity arose. So I took it.’

Despite the catastrophic impact on their immovable filming schedule, Ruby could hardly blame him. With Devlin’s star power, The Land would reach a whole new audience. Why Devlin took the role was another question entirely—did he want to spend time back in Australia? Did he feel a need to give back to the Australian film industry? A chance to take on a role well outside his vanilla action-hero stereotype?

It didn’t really matter.

Filming had started, and Dev’s character Seth was in nearly every scene. Tomorrow’s call sheet had Todd’s name all over it—the guy who Dev had replaced. Unquestionably, they’d lost tomorrow. Which was not good, as Arizona had to be at Pinewood Studios in London for her next film in just six weeks and one day’s time. They didn’t have any time up their sleeves.

‘Does Dev know the script?’

Paul just looked at her. What do you think?

Okay. So they’d lost more than just tomorrow. Dev would need to rehearse. Ruby’s mind scrambled about trying to figure out how the first assistant director could possibly rearrange the filming schedule that she’d so painstakingly put together...and she’d need to organise to get Dev’s costumes sorted. And his hair cut. And...

‘Should I sort out a medical appointment?’ she asked. A doctor’s report for each actor was required for the film’s insurance—everything from a propensity for cold sores through to a rampant base-jumping hobby had an impact on how much it cost.

‘No,’ Paul said, very quickly.

Ruby tilted her head, studying him. But before she could ask the obvious question, Paul explained. ‘He saw a doctor in Sydney when he landed. It’s all sorted.’

Okay. She supposed that made sense.

‘Accommodation?’

God knew where she’d put him. The cast and crew had already overrun every bed and breakfast plus the local—rather cosy—motel.

‘He’s taking over Todd’s place.’

Ouch. Poor Todd. He must be devastated—this role was widely considered his big break. He was being touted as the next big thing.

Only to be trumped by the current big thing.

She felt for him, but, unfortunately, the brutality of this industry never failed to surprise her.

This was not a career for the faint-hearted, or anyone who needed the reassurance of a job associated with words like stable, or reliable.

Fortunately, that was exactly why Ruby loved it.

Ten minutes later, the four of them had a plan of sorts for the next few days, and she was closing Paul’s office door behind her as Sal and Andy rushed back to their desks.

For a moment she stood, alone, in the cottage’s narrow old hallway. Noise spilled from the two rooms that flanked it: music, clattering keyboards, multiple conversations and the occasional burst of laughter. A familiar hum peppered with familiar voices.

To her left was Sal and Andy’s office. Ruby didn’t need to glance through their open doorway to know they’d already be busily working away on the trestle-tables that served as their temporary desks. The office would also be perfectly organised—notepads and pens all lined up, that kind of thing—because it always was. They were in charge of the film’s budget—so such meticulous organisation was definitely a plus.

In theory, given her own role, she should be just as meticulous.

Instead, to her right was the room that, amongst other things, housed her own trestle-table desk, many huge prone-to-collapsing mountains of paper and only the vaguest sense of order. Or so it appeared, anyway. She had to be ruthlessly organised—but she didn’t need to be tidy to be effective.

The room was also the home of the three members of the production crew who reported to her—Cath, Rohan and Selena. Unsurprisingly, it was this room where the majority of noise was coming from, as this was the happening part of the production office where all day every day they managed actors and scripts and agents and vendors and anything or anyone else needed to keep the film going. It was crazy, demanding, noisy work—and with a deep breath, she walked straight into it.

As expected, three heads popped up as she stepped through the door.

‘I guess you all heard the news?’

As one, they nodded.

‘Was kind of awesome when he walked out on Paul,’ said Rohan, leaning back in his chair. ‘Paul came in here and ranted for a bit before charging out the door in pursuit. Guess he couldn’t find him.’

Ruby didn’t bother to correct him.

Instead, she spent a few minutes further explaining the situation, and assigning them all additional tasks. No one complained—quite the opposite, actually. No one saw the unexpected addition of a major star to The Land as anything but a very good thing. It meant they were all instantly working on a film far bigger than they’d signed up for. It was a fantastic opportunity.

She needed to remember that.

Ruby settled herself calmly into her chair, dropping her phone onto her desk—fortunately no worse for wear after hitting the dirt for the second time today. She tapped the mouse track pad on her laptop, and it instantly came to life, displaying the twenty-odd new emails that had arrived since she’d last had a chance to check her phone. Not too bad given it seemed like a lifetime since she’d been busily redistributing those last-minute script revisions to the actors.

She had a million and one things to do, and she really needed to get straight back to it. Instead, her attention skidded about the room—away from her glowing laptop screen and out of the window. There wasn’t much of a view—just bare, flat countryside all the way to the ridge of mountains—but she wasn’t really looking at it. Instead, her brain was still desperately trying to process the events of the past half-hour.

It didn’t seem possible that she’d so recently been wrapped around one of the sexiest men in the world.

While covered in dirt.

And had had absolutely no idea.

Inwardly, she cringed for about the thousandth time.

Work. She reminded herself. She just needed to focus on work. Who cared if she’d accidentally flung herself into Devlin Cooper’s arms? It was an accident, and it would never happen again—after all, she wasn’t exactly anywhere near Dev Cooper’s percentile on the drop-dead-gorgeousness spectrum. And he’d hardly had the opportunity to be attracted to her sparkling personality.

Despite everything, that thought made her smile.

No. This wasn’t funny. This was serious. What if someone had seen them?

She stood up, as sitting still had become impossible. On the window sill sat the antenna of their oversized wireless Internet router, and she fiddled with it, just so it looked as if she were doing something constructive. On a location this remote, they’d had to bring their own broadband. And their own electricity, actually—provided by a large truck that’s sole purpose was to power Unit Base, the name of this collection of trucks and people that were the beating heart of any feature film.

Her job was everything to her, and a spotless professional reputation was non-negotiable. She didn’t get each job by circling ads in the paper, or subscribing to some online jobs database. In film, it was all about word of mouth.

And getting it on with an actor on set... Yeah. Not a good look.

On the plus side, Dev would have forgotten all about the slightly mussed-up, damp and dusty woman who’d gang-tackled him by now.

Now she just needed to forget about how he’d made her feel.

I think some time away would do you good. Help you...move on.

Well. Dev guessed this place was exactly what Veronica had been hoping for. A painstakingly restored century-old cottage, complete with tasteful rear extension, was where he’d be calling home for the immediate future. It offered uninterrupted views to the surrounding mountains and everything!

It was also a kilometre or so out of town, had no immediate neighbours, and, thanks to his agent, a live-in minder.

Security. Officially.

Right.

He needed a drink. He’d walked off a trans-Pacific flight less than eight hours ago. Even travelling first class couldn’t make a flight from LA to Sydney pleasant. Add a four-hour road trip with Graeme-the-security-guy and was it surprising he’d had a short fuse today?

Please play nice with Paul.

This in his latest email from his agent.

He shouldn’t have been surprised that the producer had already started updating Veronica on his behaviour. He’d even learnt exactly what she’d held over the prickly producer—knowledge of an on-set indiscretion with an aspiring actress ten years previously.

What a cliché.

And how like his agent to file that little titbit away for future use.

Good for her. Although he didn’t let himself consider how exactly he’d got to this point—to where landing roles depended on tactics and calling in favours.

Dev had dragged an overstuffed armchair onto the rear decking. On his lap was the script for The Land, not that he could read it now the sun had long set.

Beside him, on one of the chairs from the wooden outdoor setting he’d decided looked too uncomfortable, was his dinner. Cold, barely touched salmon with fancy-looking vegetables. God knew where Veronica had sourced his fridge and freezer full of food from—he’d long ago got used to her magic touch.

Although the lack of alcohol hadn’t gone unnoticed. Subtle, Veronica.

But she was wrong. Booze wasn’t his problem.

He’d have to send good old Graeme down to the local bottle shop tomorrow or something.

But for now, he needed a drink.

Leaving the script on the chair, he walked through the house, and then straight out of the front door. Graeme was staying in a separate, smaller worker’s cottage closer to the road, but Dev didn’t bother to stop and let him know where he was going.

He’d been micro-managed quite enough. He could damn well walk into town and get a drink without having to ask anyone’s approval.

So he did.

Walking felt good. For once he wasn’t on the lookout for the paparazzi, as, for now, no one knew he was here. His unexpected arrival in Australia would have been noticed, of course, and it wouldn’t take long before the photographers descended. But they hadn’t, not just yet.

He had no idea what time it was, just that it was dark. Really dark—there were certainly no streetlights, and the moon was little more than a sliver.

His boots were loud on the bitumen, loud enough to disturb a group of sheep that scattered abruptly behind their barbed-wire fence. Further from the road nestled the occasional house, their windows glowing squares of bright amid the darkness.

Soon he’d hit the main street, a short stretch of shops, a petrol station, a library. He hadn’t paid much attention when he’d arrived—a mix of jet lag and general lack of interest—but now he took the time to look, slowing his walk down to something approaching an amble.

Most of the town was silent—blinds were drawn, shops were certainly closed this late. But the one obvious exception was the pub, which, like much of the town, was old and stately—perched two storeys high on a corner, complete with a wide wooden balcony overlooking the street. Tonight the balcony was empty, but noise and music spilled from the open double doors. He quickened his pace, suddenly over all this peace and quiet.

It was packed. Completely—people were crammed at the bar, around the scattered tall tables and also the lower coffee tables with their surrounding couches and ottomans. It was the cast and crew, obviously, who’d taken the pub over. He’d seen for himself that Lucyville didn’t exactly have a happening restaurant strip. This was the only place to drink—and eat—so here they all were.

The pub didn’t go quiet or anything at his arrival, but he noticed that he’d been noticed.

It was a sensation that had once been a novelty, had later annoyed him to the verge of anger—and now that he just accepted. He could hardly complain...he was living his dream and all that.

Right.

He found a narrow gap at the bar, resting an arm on the polished surface. The local bartender caught his eye and did a double take, but played it cool. In his experience, most people did, with the occasional crazy person the exception rather than the rule. The paparazzi were far more an issue than Joe Public—no question.

He ordered his drink, although he wasn’t quick to raise the glass to his lips once it was placed in front of him. Maybe it wasn’t the drink he’d needed, but the walk, the bite of the crisp night air in his lungs?

Mentally he shook his head. Veronica would love that, be all smug and sure she was right to send him to Australia—while Dev wasn’t so certain.

What was that saying? Same crap—different bucket.

His lips tightened into a humourless smile.

He turned, propping his weight against the bar. As he took a sip of his beer he surveyed the large room. It was a surprisingly eclectic place, with funky modern furniture managing to blend with the polished ancient floorboards and what—he was pretty sure—was the original bar. Not quite the backwater pub he’d been imagining.

The lighting was soft and the atmosphere relaxed, with the dress code more jeans than cocktail.

One particular pair of jeans caught his eye. Dark blue denim, moulded over elegantly crossed legs—right in the corner of the pub, the one farthest from him.

Yet his attention had still been drawn to her, to Ruby.

Only when he saw her did he realise he’d been looking for her—searching her out in the crowd.

He watched her as she talked to her friends, wine glass in hand. To all appearances she was focused completely on the conversation taking place around her. She was quick to smile, and quick to interject and trigger a laugh from others. But despite all that, there was the slightest hint of tension to her body.

She knew he was watching her.

Beside her, another woman leant over and whispered in her ear, throwing glances in his direction as she did.

Ruby shook her head emphatically—and Dev was no lip-reader, but he’d put money on the fact she’d just said: No, he’s not.

Accordingly, he straightened, pushing himself away from the bar.

He liked nothing more than to prove someone wrong.

‘He’s coming over!’

Every single cell in Ruby’s body—already tingling at what she’d told herself was Dev’s imagined attention—careened up to high alert.

‘It’s no big deal. We met before.’ She shrugged deliberately. ‘Maybe he doesn’t know anyone else yet.’

‘When did you meet him?’ Selena asked, wide-eyed. ‘And how am I not aware of this?’

Ruby’s words were carefully cool. ‘When I was walking back to the office. We barely said two words.’

That, at least, was completely true.

Her friend had lost interest, anyway, her eyes trained on Dev’s tall frame as he approached.

‘Mind if I join you?’

Dev’s voice was as gorgeously deep and perfect as in every one of his movies. Not for the first time, Ruby questioned her intelligence—how on earth had she not recognised him?

With a deep breath, she lifted her gaze to meet his. He stood on the other side of the table before them: Ruby, Selena and a couple of girls from the art department. They’d been having an after-dinner drink, all comfy on one big plush purple L-shaped couch—now the other three were alternating between carefully feigned disinterest and slack-jawed adoration. Unheard of for professionals in the film industry who dealt with stars every day.

But, she supposed, this was Devlin Cooper.

Everyone else appeared struck dumb and incapable of answering his question—but Dev was looking at her, anyway.

To say yes, she did mind, was tempting—but more trouble than it was worth. So, reluctantly, she shook her head. ‘Not at all.’

Dev stepped past the table and sat next to Ruby.

With great effort, she resisted the temptation to scoot away. Unlike the three other women at the table, she was not going to treat Dev any differently from anyone else on the cast and crew.

No adoring gaze. No swooning.

So, although he was close—and the couch definitely no longer felt big—she didn’t move. Didn’t betray one iota of the unexpected heat that had flooded her body.

‘You shouldn’t be embarrassed,’ he said, low enough that only she could hear.

‘Why would you think I am?’

Casually, she brought her glass to her lips.

Did he notice the slightest trembling of her fingers?

She risked a glance out of the corner of her eye.

He watched her with a familiar expression. Confident. Knowing.

Arrogant.

She sighed. ‘Fine. I was embarrassed. Let me think: running into one of the world’s most famous men, while covered in dirt and looking like crap—and then not even recognising said star...’ Ruby tilted her head, as if considering her words. ‘Yes, I think that pretty much sums it up. I reckon a good nine out of ten on my embarrassment scale.’

He didn’t even blink. If anything he looked amused.

A different type of tension stiffened her body. Yes, her stupid, apparently one-track body was all a-flutter with Mr Hot Movie Star so near. But now she could add affronted frustration into the mix.

She didn’t know what she wanted—an apology? Sympathy? A yeah, I can see how that might’ve sucked for you, even?

‘But you only gave it a nine,’ he said, placing his beer on one of the discarded coasters on the table.

‘A what?’ she asked, confused.

‘On your embarrassment scale,’ he said. ‘Only a nine...’ He looked contemplative for a moment, then leant closer, close enough that it was impossible for her to look anywhere but straight into his eyes. ‘So I was wondering—what would’ve made it a ten?’

Immediately, and most definitely without her volition, her gaze dropped from his piercing blue eyes to his lips.

Lips that immediately quirked into a grin the second she realised what she’d done. What she’d just revealed.

He leant even closer again. The touch of his breath on the sensitive skin beneath her ear made her shiver.

Logically she knew she should pull away, that she should laugh loudly, or say something—do something—to stop this way too intimate moment. A moment she knew was being watched—and if people were watching, then people would gossip.

And there were few things Ruby hated more than gossip: being the subject of or the proliferation of it.

For she had far too much experience in the former. Enough to last a lifetime.

‘You know,’ he said, his words somehow vibrating through her body—her stupidly frozen body, ‘I don’t think anyone’s ever been embarrassed when I’ve kissed them. In fact, I’m quite sure I’ve never received a complaint.’

Oh, she was so sure he hadn’t...

‘I was working,’ she said, each word stiff and awkward.

So he had been going to kiss her—and she realised it was no surprise. Some part of her had known, had known there was no other way to interpret those few minutes, even though her rational self had had so much difficulty believing it.

But knowing she hadn’t imagined it and wanting it to have happened were entirely different things.

‘I kiss people all the time at work,’ he replied, with a spark of humour in his eyes that was new, and unexpected.

Ruby found herself forcing back a grin, surprised at the shift in atmosphere. ‘It’s a bit different when you’re following a script.’

‘Ah,’ he said, his lips quirking up. ‘Not always.’

Now she laughed out loud, shaking her head. ‘I bet.’

Their laughter should’ve diluted the tension, but if anything the air between them thickened.

With great effort, Ruby turned away slightly, taking a long, long sip of her wine—not that she tasted a thing. Her brain whirred at a million miles an hour—or maybe it wasn’t whirring at all, considering all it seemed to be able to do was wonder how Dev’s lips would feel against hers...

No.

‘Well,’ she said, finally, her gaze swinging back to meet his. Firmly. ‘Script or otherwise, I don’t kiss anyone at work.’ She paused, then added in a tone that was perfectly matter-of-fact and perfectly polite, ‘It’s late. I need to go. It was nice to talk to you when I wasn’t covered in dirt. And I’m sorry about your T-shirt.’

Ruby stood up and placed her wine glass on the table with movements she hoped looked casual. She glanced at her friends, who all stared at her wide-eyed.

She’d need to set them all straight tomorrow. Dev Cooper was so not her type it was ridiculous.

She managed some goodbyes, hooked her handbag over her shoulder, and then headed for the door. The entire time she risked barely a glance at Dev, but thankfully he didn’t move.

Not that she expected him to follow her. She wasn’t an idiot. He could have any woman in this bar. Pretty much any woman in the world.

For some reason she’d piqued his interest, but she had no doubt it was fleeting—the novelty of the crazy dusty coffee lady or something.

Outside, the early October evening was cool, and so Ruby hugged herself, rubbing her goose-pimpling arms. She was staying at the town motel, not even a hundred-metre walk down the main street.

Only a few steps in that direction, she heard someone else leave the bar behind her, their boots loud on the wooden steps.

It was difficult, but as it turned out not impossible, to keep her eyes pointed forward. It could be anyone.

‘Ruby.’

Or it could be Dev.

She should’ve sighed—and been annoyed or disappointed. But instead her tummy lightened and she realised she was smiling.

Ugh.

She kept on walking.

In moments, following the thud of loping strides on bitumen, he was beside her, keeping pace with her no-nonsense walk. For long seconds, they walked in silence.

Really uncomfortable, charged silence.

‘So—’ he began.

‘This isn’t an act, you know,’ Ruby interrupted. ‘I’m not playing hard to get. I’m not interested.’

He gave a surprised bark of laughter. ‘Right.’

Ruby slowed to a stop, her whole body stiff with annoyance. She stood beneath a street lamp that illuminated the gate to the Lucyville Motel and its chipped and faded sign.