Why Resist a Rebel - By Leah Ashton Page 0,18

enjoying this—Dev spun his chair around to face her. His assessing gaze travelled over her, from her flat, knee-high leather boots, up to her fitted navy jeans, cream tank top and oversized, over-long wool cardigan. Then to her face—touching on her lips, her eyes, her hair.

Ruby wanted to kick herself for being pleased she’d made an effort with her make-up today. She’d done so yesterday too, not letting herself acknowledge until just now that it had—of course—been for Devlin Cooper.

God, she frustrated herself. She’d been sure she’d long ago got past this—this pathetic need for male attention. The need for anyone else to provide her with validation, other than herself.

No. That hadn’t changed.

He opened his mouth, guaranteed to say something teasing and clever. He had that look in his eyes—she’d seen it in his movies, and definitely in person.

She didn’t give him the chance.

‘Who the hell do you think you are?’

Ruby had the satisfaction of watching his eyes widen in surprise. But he recovered quickly, as smooth as silk. ‘I believe I’m Devlin Cooper.’ He shrugged. ‘You know, the actor?’

She shook her head. ‘No way. Don’t be smart. I’m onto you.’

‘Onto me?’ he asked, raising an eyebrow. ‘What exactly are you onto?’

Ruby bit her lip, trying to hold onto the barest thread of control. Could he be any more deliberately oblivious? Any more arrogant?

‘This,’ she said, throwing her arms up to encompass the trailer. ‘And the phone calls, the emails, the hire car, the chocolates, the fruit, the curtains...’ Ruby started to count them off on her fingers. ‘What next? What next trivial, unreasonable task are you going to lob in my direction?’

‘You don’t feel my requests are legitimate?’ he asked. If he was at all bothered by her rapidly rising voice, his expression revealed nothing.

‘I know they’re not.’ She glared at him when he tried to speak again. ‘And I don’t care why you’ve been doing it: I don’t care if you’re so shocked by the concept of a woman saying no to you that you need to be as irritating as possible in revenge, but—please—just stop.’

Dev blinked. ‘Is that what you think I’m doing?’ In contrast to even a moment before, now he looked dumbfounded—his forehead wrinkled in consternation. ‘That’s not it at all.’

But she was barely listening now.

‘In case you’re not aware, when you pull stunts like this, Paul—you know, my boss?—expects me to sort it all immediately. If I don’t—if filming is held up, if we can’t shoot a scene because of you, or if I need to ask Paul to call your agent to kick your butt into gear—it isn’t you who looks like a massive, unprofessional loser. It’s me.’

Dev pushed himself to his feet. He was in costume: dark brown trousers, a soft tan shirt with the sleeves rolled up, a heavy leather belt and holster, plus chunky work boots—he was playing an early nineteen hundreds Australian drover after all. Temporarily, her tirade was clogged in her throat as she digested the sight of him approaching her. He was so tall, so broad—and suddenly the trailer felt so small.

But then her frustration bubbled over again. Hot, famous movie star or not—nobody got away with treating Ruby Bell this way.

‘You might have forgotten what it’s like to rely on a regular salary, but trust me—I haven’t. And I’m not having some entitled, full-of-himself actor think it’s okay to stomp all over my reputation, my professionalism, my...’

With every word her voice became higher and less steady.

Dev had stopped in front of her. Not close enough to crowd her, not at all, and yet she found that words began to escape her as he studied her, his gaze constant, searching and...what? Not arrogant. Not angry. Not even shocked...

Sad? No, not that either. But it wasn’t what she expected.

It had been silent for long seconds, and Ruby swallowed, trying to pull herself together.

‘If you don’t stop,’ she began, ‘I’ll...’

And here her tirade came to its pathetic—and now clearly obvious—end.

What exactly would she do? What could she do? She’d just told him that she’d get blamed for any problems he caused, and that was pretty much true. And it wasn’t as if she could get him fired.

Hmm. Let me think: Easily replaceable production co-ordinator versus the man who’s starred in the world’s highest grossing spy franchise?

She tangled her fingers into the fabric of her cardigan, suddenly needing to hold onto something.

Oh, God. What had she done? All he had to do was complain to Paul and...

Dev was still watching