Why Resist a Rebel? (5 page)

He took them from her with barely a glance. It was as if he was waiting for something—to figure something out.

‘And?’ he asked.

‘I’ll be taking you to be fitted by Costume, first,’ she said. ‘Then Hair and Make-up would like to see you prior to your rehearsal.’

‘And you’ll be escorting me?’

Ruby swallowed. ‘Yes. I’ll be looking after you today.’

It was immediately obvious that was the wrong thing to say. Something flickered in his gaze.

‘I have my call sheet. I know where I need to be. I don’t require hand-holding.’

‘Paul asked that I...’

His glare told her that was another mistake, so she let the words drift off.

Then tried again. ‘Mr Cooper, I’m here to help you.’

Somehow, those words changed everything, as if she’d flicked a switch. From defensive, and shuttered, his expression was suddenly...
considering?

But Ruby didn’t think for a moment that he’d simply accepted she was just doing her job. This was different—more calculating.

‘Here to help,’ he said to himself, as if he was turning the words over in his head.

Then he smiled, a blinding, movie-star smile.

And Ruby had absolutely no idea what had just happened.

It was dumb—really dumb—that he was surprised.

Heck—if
he
were the producer on this film, he’d have done the same thing.

It didn’t mean he had to be happy about it.

He’d never been this kind of actor before; he’d never needed to be led around on some imaginary leash. Lord—he’d thought Graeme was bad enough.

And, of course, it had to be Ruby in charge of him.

It was a total waste of her time, of course. On set, he
was
fine, and not the fine he told himself he was whenever he was convincing himself to fall asleep.

He followed just slightly behind her. She was talking, quite rapidly, but he really wasn’t paying much attention.

She was nervous, for sure. He
did
like that.

And he
did
like how the tables had turned. Last night she’d called the shots. Today—it was him.

Juvenile? Yes.

Fun? He thought so.

So Paul thought he needed looking after? No problem.

He’d be that actor, then. The ridiculous type who wanted everything in their trailer periwinkle blue, or who would only drink a particular brand of mineral water—not available locally, of course.

He’d prove Paul right—and irritate the self-important producer in the process.

A small win.

And it would push Ruby’s buttons too—trigger that flare of response he’d already witnessed a handful of times, and was eager to experience again.

Dev smiled, just as Ruby stopped before a hulking white trailer and turned to face him.

Her forehead wrinkled as she studied him, as if she knew something was up.

He just smiled even more broadly.

Yes, this was an
excellent
idea.

Completely focused on the email she was reading—Arizona’s agent, confirming that his client was available to attend an opening in Sydney the following week—Ruby picked up her loudly ringing phone from her overflowing desk without glancing at the screen.

‘Ruby Bell.’

‘Ruby.’
A pause. ‘Good afternoon.’

There was no point pretending she didn’t recognise that voice. Her disloyal body practically shivered in recognition.

‘How can I help, Mr Cooper?’ she asked with determined brightness, her eyes not wavering from her laptop screen, although the email’s words and sentences had somehow become an indecipherable alphabet jumble.

Even so, she tapped randomly on her keyboard. For her benefit, mostly, a reminder that she was a busy film professional who received phone calls from famous actors All The Time. She was working. This was her job.

No need for her mouth to go dry or for her cheeks to warm.

‘Well,’ he said, ‘I have a problem.’

‘Yes?’ she prompted, with some trepidation.

He’d been scrupulously polite this morning. Allowed her to take him from appointment to appointment. He’d chatted inanely about the weather, and charmed every person she introduced him to.

But...

Occasionally he’d slant a glance in her direction that meant...she had absolutely no idea.

It wasn’t about last night any more. She was sure. No question he’d long lost interest in perfectly average Ruby Bell by now.

Definitely.

‘I can’t figure out how to use the wireless Internet in my cottage.’

Oh. Her skin went hotter. Of course his phone call had nothing to do with her.
Of course it didn’t.

Hadn’t she told him—what, three hours ago?—to call her any time?

Ruby took a deep breath. She really needed to pull herself together.

‘I’m sorry to hear that, Mr Cooper,’ she replied. ‘I’ll get that sorted for you straight away.’

‘Appreciate it,’ he said, and then the phone went silent.

Carefully, she placed her phone back onto her desk, darting her gaze about the room. She half expected everyone to be staring at her, to
know
exactly how flustered she was, despite all her efforts to not be. To somehow
know
that Dev had all but propositioned her outside the salubrious Lucyville Motel, even though she’d told her intrigued friends she hadn’t seen Dev after she’d left the pub last night.

To
know
that chaperoning Dev around set this morning was stupidly difficult, despite her constant mental reminders that it was
so not a big deal,
and that she
was a professional
and
they were both adults
who could work together professionally despite the running-into-him thing, or the not-recognising-him thing, or saying-no-to-the-most-eligible-bachelor-in-the-world thing.

But no. Rohan worked quietly at his desk. Cath stood in front of the large whiteboard calendar, studying it with fierce concentration and a marker in her hand. Selena wasn’t even in the room—she was out, busily signing in extras.

Ruby bit back a sigh. She was being ridiculous.

So she tilted her head left to right, rolled her shoulders a few times, wriggled her toes—and told herself she was cool, and calm and collected.
She was!

And then she got back to work.

Less than an hour later, Dev stepped out onto the deck at the back of his cottage, sliding shut the glass door firmly behind him. Inside, one of the more junior members of the production office was busily fixing his ‘broken’ Internet.

He pressed his phone to his ear.

‘Ruby Bell,’ she said when she answered, sounding as brisk and polite as she had earlier.

‘Ms Bell,’ he said, ever so politely, ‘thank you. I now have Internet.’

Well, he would once the guy inside realised the router had been unplugged.

‘Oh, good,’ she said. There was a beat or two of silence, and then she added, ‘Can I help you with anything else?’

Dev’s lips curled upwards.

‘Yes, actually. I need a new hire car.’

‘Is something wrong with your current car?’ she asked.

No.
Assuming you disregarded the fact that he had Graeme-the-warden driving him everywhere. Dev’s suggestion he drive himself to set from now on was not warmly received. If Dev had access to the keys he never would’ve asked at all.

That
would’ve made Veronica happy. About as happy as she’d been in her email this morning, and her many missed calls on his phone.

Turned out Graeme had passed on his trip to the pub.

Security—my arse.

‘My current car is too...’ he paused, as if in deep contemplation ‘...
feminine
.’

‘Pardon me?’

‘Too
feminine,
’ he repeated.

The line remained silent. Was Ruby smiling? Frowning?

‘I see,’ she said, after a while. ‘I’m sorry you find your
black four-wheel drive
so unsuitable. Can you explain to me what it is that you dislike about the car?’

There was nothing overtly discourteous in her tone—quite the opposite, in fact. Yet Dev heard the subtlest of subtle bites. He liked it.

‘It’s the upholstery,’ he said. ‘It has pink thread in it.’

‘Ah,’ she said, as if this were actually a valid complaint. ‘Fair enough. Don’t worry, I’ll have a new car to you by tonight.’

‘At the latest,’ he said, just like one of the many delusionally self-important actors he knew who made these types of requests.

‘Not a problem, Mr Cooper.’

‘Appreciated, Ms Bell.’

Then he hung up with a smile on his face.

Ruby sat alone in her office, the Top 40 show on the radio her only company. It was late—really late, and she’d sent everyone else home fifteen minutes earlier.

But she had to get everything done—well, an hour ago, really—but Dev had really screwed up her day.

Losing Rohan for an hour to fix Dev’s wireless had meant she’d had to run the call sheet alone; and unfortunately the runner she’d assigned to sort out the new hire car was young, and new, and seemed to ask Ruby a question every five minutes. Then, of course, there’d been Dev’s email, asking for directions to every amenity in Lucyville. After she’d gritted her teeth and carefully replied to it—and therefore losing another thirty minutes—he’d blithely replied with one word:
Thanks.

Thanks!

She’d silently screamed.

She’d had no idea Dev was like this—normally talent of the high-maintenance variety came with clear advance warning via the industry grapevine. Put two people who worked in film together, and guaranteed that stuff like ‘Dev-Cooper-thought-his-car-was-too-girly’ got talked about.

But—until the last twenty-four hours—she’d never heard a negative word about Devlin Cooper.

Oohing and ahhing about how he was
just
as gorgeous in real life—which she now knew to be true—yes, she’d heard that. But unreasonable, prima-donna carryings-on? Not a whisper.

Her phone rang, vibrating against the pile of sides—the scenes being filmed the next day—it rested upon.

Of course it was Dev, and reluctantly Ruby swiped her finger across the screen to answer the call.

‘Mr Cooper,’ Ruby said, setting the phone to loudspeaker so she could continue to work on the latest updates to a transport schedule. She was
not
going to let Dev distract her. ‘How can I help you?’

‘I was wondering,’ he said, not sounding at all apologetic for calling so late, ‘if you could recommend anywhere good to eat in Sydney.’

Ruby’s jaw clenched.
Really?

‘Was it for a particular occasion?’

‘A date,’ he said. ‘This weekend.’

Ruby determinedly ignored that irrational, disappointed kick she felt in her belly.

‘Sure,’ she managed to squeeze out. ‘I’ll get someone onto that for you tomorrow.’

‘But I was hoping you could offer some personal recommendations.’

Had his voice become slightly deeper? More intimate?

Don’t be an idiot!
She typed the words on screen for good measure; maybe
then
it would sink in.

‘Well,’ she said, ‘if you were thinking fine dining, then you probably can’t go wrong with
Tetsuya’s,
on Kent Street. Or
Quay,
at The Rocks.’

‘Personal favourites?’

‘No. I’ve heard the food is amazing, but I generally prefer somewhere a little less formal. Where people talk and laugh loudly and you don’t need to book months in advance. You know?’ Immediately she realised what she’d said. ‘Although I’d imagine you don’t have too many problems with getting a table.’

‘Not usually,’ he said, a smile in his voice. ‘So where would
you
go for dinner this Saturday night in Sydney?’

She’d grown up in the outer suburbs of Sydney, but as an adult she’d spent little time there—aside from when she was working. And with twelve-to-fourteen-hour days typical on a film set, dining out—fine or otherwise—wasn’t exactly a regular occurrence. Although, she’d crashed in the spare room of a set dresser between jobs last year...

‘Some friends took me to a French Bistro right in the CBD when I was last in Sydney. It’s a little fancy, but still relaxed. Plus, the Bombe Alaska is to die for.’

‘Perfect. Would you be able to book me a table?’

Ruby gritted her teeth.
So not my job!

‘Sure!’ she said, instead, with determined enthusiasm.

‘Appreciate it,’ he said, and the words were just as annoying the third time she’d heard them that day.

Then he hung up.

Ruby told herself she’d imagined the beginnings of a laugh before the phone went silent. As otherwise she’d need to drive to his place right now. And strangle him.

The next day was overcast, with rain forecast for the early afternoon.

Consequently, Asha, the second assistant director, was rather frantic when she rushed into Ruby’s office just after eleven a.m.

‘I need your help,’ she said, running a hand through her shiny black bob. ‘We have a situation in Hair and Make-up. Dev won’t let anyone cut his hair, and we need him on set like
now.
We need to get this scene before the weather hits.’

Ruby sighed. She’d left him with hair and make-up not even twenty minutes ago...but still—she really shouldn’t be surprised.

A minute later, both women were striding across Unit Base.

‘Dev isn’t at all like what I expected,’ Ruby said. She wrapped her arms tightly around herself as she walked, the breeze sharp through the thin cotton of her cardigan.

‘You mean the whole “haven’t slept or eaten in a month” thing?’ Asha asked. ‘Thank God Make-up and Wardrobe can work miracles is all I can say.’ Then a long pause, and a conspiratorial whisper: ‘I hear that he’s nursing a broken heart. That Estelle van der something? She’s already hooked up with someone new. Poor guy.’

Poor guy?
Right.

‘Yeah, that, I guess,’ Ruby said. ‘But I meant all of his demands? It’s driving me nuts.’

Asha shot her a surprised glance. ‘Really? Honestly, up until just now he’s been a model actor. It’s amazing how quickly he’s learnt his scenes and he just nailed our rehearsals yesterday. His professionalism is the only reason we can shoot anything today.’