Why Resist a Rebel?. Leah Ashton
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My.
God.
Dev Cooper smiled as the slender blonde raked her fingers desperately through her short-cropped hair.
Ruby.
It suited her. She was striking: with big, velvety brown eyes beneath dark blonde brows, sharp-edged cheekbones and a lush mouth. Maybe her elegant nose was a little too long, and her chin a little too stubborn—if she were a model his agent had picked out for him to be photographed with at some premiere or opening or whatever.
But, thankfully, she wasn’t. It would seem she was a member of the crew of this film he was stuck working on for the next six weeks. And—if the way she’d been looking at him a few minutes earlier was anything to go by—she was going to make the next few days, maybe longer, a heck of a lot more interesting.
Ruby crossed her arms as she spoke to the producer—Phil? No, Paul. The man who’d owed his agent Veronica a favour. A really big favour, it turned out, given his agent had bundled him onto the plane to Sydney before she’d sorted out the pesky little detail of whether or not he had the role.
Dev guessed, knowing Veronica, that Paul had discovered he was replacing his leading man just before Dev had turned up in his shiny black hire car. Chauffeur driven, of course—his agent was taking no chances this time.
He shifted his weight a little, easing the pressure on his left leg, which throbbed steadily. Had it really only been a week?
The pancake-flat countryside where he now stood couldn’t be further away from his driveway in Beverly Hills—the site of ‘the last straw’ as his agent had put it. Even Dev had to admit that forgetting to put his car into reverse wasn’t his best moment. Ditto to driving into his living room, and writing off his Jag.
On the plus side, he hadn’t been injured, beyond some temporary muscle damage, and, thanks to the fortress-style wall that surrounded his house, no one beyond his agent and long-suffering housekeeper even knew it had happened.
And, despite what Veronica believed, he hadn’t been drunk.
Exhausted after not sleeping for four nights—yes. But driving, or attempting to drive, drunk? No, he hadn’t slid that low.
Yet?
Dev scrubbed at his eyes, uninterested in pursuing the direction his thoughts had taken him. Instead, he refocused on Ruby and Paul, who had stopped talking and were now looking at him.
Ruby’s gaze was direct, despite the hint of colour at her cheeks. She was embarrassed, no doubt. But she was brazening it out.
He liked that.
‘I’m Ruby Bell,’ she said, ‘Production Co-ordinator for The Land.’
Her arm moved slightly, as though she was going to shake his hand before thinking better of it.
A shame. He was impatient to touch her again.
Maybe she saw some of what he was thinking, as her eyes narrowed. But her tone revealed nothing. ‘Paul will give me your details, and I’ll send through tomorrow’s call sheet once I’ve spoken to the assistant director.’
He nodded.
Then Paul started talking, putting lots of emphasis on tight timelines and stop dates and getting up to speed as quickly as possible—all things he’d said in their abruptly truncated meeting earlier.
Lord, anyone would think he made a habit of missing his call...
He smiled tightly at his private joke, eliciting a glare from Paul.
Dev tensed. This film might have a decent budget for an Australian production, but it was no Hollywood blockbuster. He was replacing a soapie star as the lead, for heaven’s sake.
No way was he going to take a thinly veiled lecture from some nobody producer.
‘I get it,’ he said, cutting him off mid-stream, the action not dissimilar to what had happened in Paul’s office when he’d had enough of his blustering. ‘I’ll see you both,’ he said, pausing to catch Ruby’s gaze, ‘tomorrow.’
And with that, he was off.
Six weeks of filming. Six weeks to placate his agent.
Six weeks working in a town out beyond the middle of nowhere. Where—he knew his agent hoped—even Dev Cooper couldn’t get into any trouble.
A heated memory of chocolate eyes that sparkled and urgent fingers threaded through his hair made him smile.
Well, he hadn’t made any promises.
TWO
It took all of Ruby’s strength to follow Paul up the small flight of brick steps to the production office. She literally had to remind herself to place one foot in front of the other, as her body really, really wanted to carry her in the opposite direction. Away from the scene of unquestionably one of the most humiliating moments of her career. Her life, even.
How could she not have recognised him?
Only the possibility that any attempted escape could lead her back to Devlin Cooper stopped her. Oh—and the fact she kind of loved her career.
As they walked down the narrow hallway of the dilapidated cottage/temporary production office, Paul explained in twenty-five words or less that Mr Cooper was replacing Todd, effective immediately. That was it—no further explanation.
By now they’d made it to Paul’s makeshift kitchen-cum-office at the rear of the cottage. Inside stood Sal, the line producer, and Andy, the production manager. They both wore matching, serious expressions.
It was enough to force Ruby to pull herself together. She needed to focus on the job at hand—i.e. coordinating this movie with a completely new star.
‘I have to ask,’ asked Andy, his fingers hooked in the belt loops of his jeans. ‘How the hell did you get Devlin Cooper to take this role?’
Ruby thought Paul might have rolled his eyes, but couldn’t be sure. ‘Let’s just say that the opportunity arose. So I took it.’
Despite the catastrophic impact on their immovable filming schedule, Ruby could hardly blame him. With Devlin’s star power, The Land would reach a whole new audience. Why Devlin took the role was another question entirely—did he want to spend time back in Australia? Did he feel a need to give back to the Australian film industry? A chance to take on a role well outside his vanilla action-hero stereotype?
It didn’t really matter.
Filming had started, and Dev’s character Seth was in nearly every scene. Tomorrow’s call sheet had Todd’s name all over it—the guy who Dev had replaced. Unquestionably, they’d lost tomorrow. Which was not good, as Arizona had to be at Pinewood Studios in London for her next film in just six weeks and one day’s time. They didn’t have any time up their sleeves.
‘Does Dev know the script?’
Paul just looked at her. What do you think?
Okay. So they’d lost more than just tomorrow. Dev would need to rehearse. Ruby’s mind scrambled about trying to figure out how the first assistant director could possibly rearrange the filming schedule that she’d so painstakingly put together...and she’d need to organise to get Dev’s costumes sorted. And his hair cut. And...
‘Should I sort out a medical appointment?’ she asked. A doctor’s report for each actor was required for the film’s insurance—everything from a propensity for cold sores through to a rampant base-jumping hobby had an impact on how much it cost.
‘No,’ Paul said, very quickly.
Ruby tilted her head, studying him. But before she could ask the obvious question, Paul explained. ‘He saw a doctor in Sydney when he landed. It’s all sorted.’
Okay. She supposed that made sense.