Why Resist a Rebel - By Leah Ashton Page 0,23

herself. Could rely, only, on herself.

She turned, and flopped onto her back on her bed, uncaring of the clothing she squashed and creased beneath her.

Hmm. That was all well and good—and right.

But.

She still had a date with Devlin Cooper in two days’ time.

An emergency shopping expedition was—most definitely—required.

Ruby had to spend a few hours in the office on Saturday morning, and so by the time she’d driven the four hours into the city, she was cutting it extremely fine.

Fortunately, one of her good friends was between films at the moment. So she was meeting Gwen, an exceedingly glamorous costume designer, at a boutique in Paddington, rather than hitting the department stores in a fit of mad desperation.

As she stepped into the store, complete with its crystal chandeliers, chunky red leather armchairs and modern, smooth-edged white shelving, Gwen squealed and trotted towards her on towering platform heels.

‘Ruby! It’s been for ever!’ she announced as she wrapped her into a hug.

She’d considered sharing the identity of her date with Gwen, but had decided, on balance, that it was best if she didn’t. Yes, she trusted her friend, but...it really was better if no one knew. It was only one date, after all.

In the same vein, she’d taken steps to ensure—as much as was possible—that their date remained firmly under the radar. When Dev had called her—she’d known he wouldn’t email—she’d made it very clear that the gorgeous French bistro she’d booked was no longer suitable. It was not the type of place where privacy—and a lack of photography—could be assured. The last thing she needed was some grainy photo snapped on someone’s mobile phone making it onto Twitter and, eventually, to the film set.

Yes, she was likely paranoid, and such a liaison with a film’s star would not signal the end of her career. She knew that film sets could be the home to all sorts of flings and the more than occasional affair. It was natural in an industry where the majority of the crew were well under forty—the transient lifestyle was not ideal for anyone with a family, and roots.

She just didn’t want to be that woman Dev had a fling with. She’d been that woman enough times in her life. Thank you very much.

So this was, she realised as Gwen unhooked a dress from a shiny chrome rack to display to her, more about how she perceived herself than about how anyone else would perceive her.

Which really was just as important... No. More important than her professional reputation.

But she’d fiercely protect that, too.

‘What do you think?’ Gwen asked, giving the coat hanger a little shake so that the dress’s delicate beading shimmered beneath the down lights.

It was a cocktail-length dress, in shades of green. On the hanger it looked like nothing but pretty fabric, but of course she tried it on.

Ruby was bigger than the average tiny actress that Gwen was used to dressing, but still—her friend certainly had an eye for what suited her body.

As she stepped out of the change room and in front of the mirror Ruby couldn’t help but suck in a breath of surprise.

She looked...

‘Beautiful!’ Gwen declared happily. ‘It’s perfect.’

Ruby twisted from side to side, studying herself. The dress was gorgeous, with heavily beaded and embroidered cap sleeves and a sweetheart neckline that flattered her average-sized curves. The silk followed the curve of her waist and hips, ending well above her knee. The beading continued throughout the fabric, becoming sparser at her waist before ending in a shimmer of green and flecks of gold at the hem. It was simple—but not. Striking—but not glitzy.

She loved it.

Twenty minutes later she’d parted with a not insignificant portion of her savings, and headed with Gwen to find the perfect matching heels and a short, sexy, swingy jacket.

And an hour after that she was alone in the hotel room she’d booked, only a short walk from the crazily exclusive restaurant where she would be meeting Dev. Really soon.

The dress sparkled prettily on her bed. She had her make-up and the perfect shade of nail polish raring to go in the bathroom.

But she paused, rather than walking to the shower. She looked at herself reflected in the mirrored hotel wardrobe.

There she was, in jeans and hair that had transitioned from deliberately choppy to plain old messy at some point in the day.

She wouldn’t say she lacked confidence in herself or her looks. She didn’t think she was hideously unattractive, but...really? When Dev could have anyone, why her?

It must be