Why Resist a Rebel? (3 page)

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.

‘You sound so sure,’ she said. ‘That’s incredibly presumptuous.’

‘Am I wrong?’

Ruby sighed. ‘Does every woman you meet
really
collapse into a pathetic puddle of lust at your feet?’

‘You did,’ he pointed out.

Her cheeks went hot, but Ruby hoped her blush was hidden in the shadows.

‘I was light-headed. Confused. Definitely not myself.’ She paused for emphasis. ‘Trust me. You’re wasting your time.
I’m not interested.
’

A little, nagging voice at the back of her mind kept trying to distract her:
Oh, my God, it’s Devlin Cooper! The movie star!

Maybe that was why she didn’t turn and walk away immediately.

‘You’re serious?’

His genuine confusion was rather endearing. Unbelievably conceited, but endearing.

‘Uh-huh,’ she said, nodding. ‘Is that so hard to believe?’

She knew he was about to say
yes,
when he seemed to realise what he was about to say. Instead, his grin, revealed by the streetlight, was bemused.

He shifted his weight to one leg, and crossed his arms. He still wore the same sexy ancient-looking jeans from before, but he’d traded his ruined T-shirt for its twin in navy blue. The action of crossing his arms only further defined the muscles of his forearms and biceps.

It also defined the unexpectedly sharp angles of his elbows and the lack of flesh beyond his lean musculature.

She knew she was not the only person to notice. The film set’s grapevine was, as always, efficient, creating all sorts of theories for his unexpected weight loss.

Did you hear? His girlfriend left him—you know? That model.

I heard it’s drugs. Ice. He’s been photographed at every club in Hollywood.

He’s sick. I know! That’s why he’s come back to Australia. To spend time with his family.

Not that Ruby believed a word of it. Gossip, in her experience, was about as accurate and true to life as the typical airbrushed movie poster.

What happened to you?

But of course the question remained unsaid. It was none of her business.

Dev studied Ruby in the limited moonlight. His gaze traced the angles of her cheekbones, the straightness of her nose and the firm set of her determined mouth.

Lord, she was...pretty?

Yes. Hot?

Yes.

But that, in itself, wasn’t
it...

And different. Very, very, different.

That was why he was standing out in the deserted, frankly cold, street. That was why he’d done something he couldn’t remember doing in a very long time: he’d chased after a woman.

It was an unexpected novelty.

He liked it.

For the first time in months something—
someone—
had caught his interest. Ruby Bell—the cute little production co-ordinator on a dinky little Aussie film—intrigued him.

‘So what is it, exactly, that you find so repulsive about me?’ he asked.

She shrugged, dismissing his question. ‘I don’t know you well enough to form an opinion—repulsive or otherwise.’

‘But isn’t that why you’re not interested?’ he asked. Not that he believed her statement to be true. ‘Because you think you know me?’

From his movies, from his interviews, from the rubbish they published in glossy magazines and newspapers that should know better. Devlin Cooper the star—the persona. Not the person.

She shook her head. ‘This is the longest conversation we’ve ever had. How could I possibly know you?’

He blinked. She’d just surprised him—for the second time tonight. The first time had been walking out of that pub just as he’d been imagining how good she’d look in that big wrought-iron bed back in his cottage.

‘Ah. So, it’s not me, it’s
you,
’ he said, playing with that clichéd line. Then, for the first time, the blindingly obvious occurred to him. She wore no ring, but... ‘You have a boyfriend?’

‘Oh
no,
’ she said, her voice higher pitched and definitely firmer than before. ‘Absolutely not.’ She shook her head for emphasis.

Okay, now he was completely confused. And surprised, yet again.

Ruby wasn’t following any script he’d heard before. How many women had he flirted with in his life? Some fawned, but most were clever, witty and/or sarcastic. But, he realised, normally he already sort of knew what was going to be said next—where the conversation, or the evening, was heading. In itself, that was part of the fun. The dance of words before the inevitable.