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.’
Ruby slowed her pace slightly. ‘No complaints about his costume? Requests for a box of chocolates with all the soft-centred ones removed?’
Both were the type of requests that the Dev she’d been dealing with over the past day and a half would definitely have asked. Just this morning he’d asked to have new curtains installed in his trailer, as the current set let in too much light when closed. Apparently. Then he’d asked for a very specific selection of organic fruit. Rohan was wasting his time on that, right now. Ugh!
‘No,’ Asha said, coming to a halt outside the hair and make-up trailer. ‘This random hair thing is it. But, it’s only been a couple of days. Maybe he’ll reveal his true self to all of us on set soon.’
‘Hmm,’ was all that Ruby could say to that. A niggling suspicion that she’d dismissed as ridiculous, impossible, was now niggling, well...louder.
But surely he wouldn’t...?
She opened the door to the trailer, taking in the frustrated-looking hair stylist and his assistant—and of course Dev, sprawled ever-so-casually in front of a mirror, complete with two days’ worth of—she had to admit—sexy stubble. As she stepped inside he met her gaze in the glass.
And winked.
Ruby dug her fingernails into her palms, then took a deep, calming breath. The action was not soothing in the slightest, but it did help her speak in a fair facsimile of an I’ve-got-everything-under-control production co-ordinator.
‘Could I have a few minutes with Mr Cooper?’
It was a perfectly reasonable request—it was her job to fix exactly these types of hiccups—and so with quick nods and hopeful expressions aimed in Ruby’s direction everyone filed out.
Ever so slowly—and Ruby now knew he was