Why Resist a Rebel - By Leah Ashton Page 0,52

few times, during that long hour in the jet, she’d meant to say something. To somehow laugh off what had happened.

But it was impossible. She couldn’t very well tell him: Look, I’ve never told anyone else—ever—what I told you today. Just forget it, okay?

Right.

Last night she’d lain in bed, telling herself she’d made the sensible decision to back away. That her immediate reaction to that dose of reality—as shocking as if someone had dumped a bucket of salt water on top of her—was appropriate.

He was Devlin Cooper. She needed to remember that. It was so easy to be seduced into reading something more into the situation, imagining so much more than there was between them, or would ever be.

He wasn’t looking for for ever, and she certainly didn’t want it.

So today, her mind had wandered for the hundredth time to little flashbacks of how Dev had looked as he’d leant against the wall beside the elevator; or the way he’d looked at her, that moment before he’d kissed her, down at Tamarama...

She shoved open her door, stepping out into the cool evening.

Belatedly she realised the front door was now open. Dev stood, propped against the doorframe, watching her.

Waiting for her.

‘Looked like you were doing some serious thinking there,’ he said as she stepped onto the veranda.

‘No,’ she lied, quickly. ‘Quite the opposite. I was thinking we’ve been spending way too much time being serious.’

His lips quirked. ‘How so?’ he asked, a little gruffly.

Where he stood, half in the shadows and half illuminated by the hallway light, she couldn’t read his gaze.

She stepped closer, attempting what she hoped was a flirtatious, happy-go-lucky, I’m-totally-cool-about-all-this smile.

He took a step backwards, gesturing for her to come in.

But she didn’t. She needed to get this sorted first. They needed to both understand what this was.

‘Maybe you were right,’ she said. Dev raised his eyebrows. ‘A few weeks ago, outside the pub. When you said we were just two single people stuck in a country town. How did you put it? A match made in heaven.’

He nodded. ‘You said you didn’t date anyone you worked with.’

‘Too late now,’ she said, with a bit of a laugh. ‘Besides, somehow we’ve flown under the radar. No gossip.’

‘Except for Graeme. Graeme thinks you’re great, by the way. You should hear him on our drives into set.’

Ruby smiled. ‘Well, then, Graeme is very discreet. I’ll have to thank him.’

They both fell into silence.

‘So what you’re saying is?’ Dev prompted.

Ruby narrowed her eyes. ‘Isn’t it obvious?’

‘Not at all,’ he said. But was that a sparkle in his eyes?

She gave a little huff of frustration. ‘Fine.’ And she closed the gap between them, and before she had the chance to lose her nerve—and just because she wanted to—she kissed him.

Not tentatively, not questioning.

When, after an age, they broke apart, she needed to take a few long breaths to pull herself together.

‘That’s what I want,’ she said.

He was reaching for her again. ‘I like this plan.’

‘Just until the film is over,’ she clarified as he almost carried her inside, slamming the front door behind them.

Maybe it was the sound of the door, or the distraction of Dev kissing her neck, and the shiver it triggered through her body—but her words weren’t as firm, or as clear, as she’d like.

But she didn’t have a chance to repeat them, as now Dev had swept her up into his arms and was carrying her to his room.

And really, now wasn’t the time for talking.

Ruby had dinner with him every night, and they took advantage of all the food in his fridge—which magically doubled in volume, thanks to Graeme.

It was easy, and fun. He continued to pay her no special attention on set, although it was difficult. Especially when Ruby broke her own rules—just once—when delivering an updated copy of the day’s script.

It had been a genuine, work-related visit—but the kiss behind his very firmly closed trailer door was far from professional.

The memory made him smile as he stretched out along his couch. Ruby walked back from the kitchen, a glass of red wine in her hand.

‘Now don’t you look comfortable?’

He smiled, and tapped the space in front of him on the striped fabric. Her eyes sparkled as she sipped her wine, then placed the glass carefully on the coffee table.

She came into his arms easily. How long had it been now—a week? A week since she’d turned up at his front door, still with her rules, but with him, and this film, a temporary exception.

But he