Why Resist a Rebel?. Leah Ashton

      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.

      But this was undeniably fun, too.

      ‘You think I want a relationship?’ he asked, heavy with irony. ‘Scared I’m going to want to settle down, get married...’

      She laughed. ‘No.’

      ‘So what, exactly, is the problem? From where I stand this all seems pretty perfect. We obviously both like each other...’ he held up his hand when she went to disagree ‘...we’re both single and we’re both stuck in an isolated country town for the next month or so. Is that not a match made in heaven?’

      Ruby rolled her eyes. ‘Weren’t you listening back at the pub? I don’t do relationships at work. Especially with actors. I’m not interested in becoming known as Dev Cooper’s next conquest. Très professional, no?’

      ‘I wasn’t suggesting we make out on set, you know,’ he said dryly. Ruby raised an eyebrow. ‘I promise.’

      She shook her head. ‘Film sets are full of gossip. And my professional reputation is everything to me.’ She paused, then repeated her words, almost to herself. ‘Everything to me.’

      Commitment to your job—sure, Dev got that. Until very recently, he’d practically been the poster child for the concept. But—really? Liaisons between crew and actors were not a crime, and far from uncommon. The world would not end.

      But apparently, according to Ruby, it would. It was clear in every tense line of her expression.

      They stood in silence for a while. Dev wasn’t entirely sure what would happen now.

      He was out of his element: he’d just been rejected. Inarguably so.

      But rather than shrugging, comfortable in the knowledge that he had many other options, he found himself...disappointed.

      And reluctant to walk away.

      ‘Anyway,’ Ruby said in a different, crisper, tone. ‘You have an early call tomorrow morning, and I need to be at the office an hour earlier. So, goodnight.’

      With that, she turned on her heel and walked away. Out on the street he watched as she walked down the motel driveway to an apartment on the bottom floor of the two-storey building. Then he waited until she located her key in her oversized handbag, unlocked the door, and disappeared inside.

      Then he waited, alone on the street, some more.

      It was odd. All he knew about this woman was that she was blonde, and cute, and felt pretty amazing in his arms.

      What was the attraction? Why did he care?

      How was she different from the many other women who he’d met in the past few, dark, blurry months? Months where no one had stood out. Where nothing had stood out.

      Where when, a few weeks after Estelle had left, he’d attempt to chat to a woman—but his mind would drift. Where he’d find himself with suddenly no idea what had been said in the preceding conversation.

      And didn’t care at all.

      That was why she was different.

      Ruby pushed his buttons. Triggered reactions that had been lying dormant. Attraction. Laughter. Surprise.

      So simple.