Why Resist a Rebel?

by Leah Ashton

  Looking at her now, at her eyes that were wide with concern for him, distraction didn’t really cut it.

  Because Veronica could’ve organised him a distraction, a stunning accessory for his arm who wouldn’t have asked a single question.

  But he hadn’t wanted that; he’d wanted Ruby. He’d used that stupid favour—something he’d dreamt up in some desperate attempt to gain control of a humiliating situation, a favour he’d never thought he’d use—to get her here.

  He’d manipulated her—for the second time.

  And once again, he just couldn’t feel bad about it.

  He was glad she was here. Ruby. Not anyone else.

  ‘I heard that your father died,’ she said, very softly. ‘Someone mentioned it, on set.’ A pause. ‘I’m really sorry.’

  ‘We weren’t close,’ he said, dismissive. ‘The opposite, in fact.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she repeated.

  ‘I didn’t go to the funeral,’ he said, suddenly. Unexpectedly.

  ‘You couldn’t make it?’ she asked, and he liked that she’d jumped to that conclusion, as erroneous as it was.

  ‘He wouldn’t have wanted me there. You could say we didn’t agree on a lot of things.’

  An understatement.

  Dev waited for her to judge him on that decision. To tell him he’d made a mistake.

  ‘Is that why your brother is so angry with you?’

  Dev managed a tight smile. ‘Brothers. And yes, that’s partly why. The rest has been a lifetime in the making.’

  ‘You’re the odd one out.’

  A small, harsh laugh. ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Are you close to your mum?’

  He nodded.

  ‘But you haven’t seen her much recently.’ He must have looked at her curiously. ‘She was shocked to see you tonight, I could tell. So I guessed you hadn’t popped by for dinner in a while.’

  ‘I haven’t been here in years. Ten years or more. When I saw Mum, it was somewhere else. A restaurant or something.’

  ‘Because of your dad?’

  Another nod.

  For a while they were both silent, and little snippets of unintelligible conversation drifted across the breeze to them.

  ‘That really sucks, you know,’ she said, finally. ‘That you have siblings, parents—and you’re estranged from them all.’

  He knew what she meant. That she’d had none of that. No family to be estranged from.

  ‘Sometimes I think it would’ve been better if I didn’t have them.’

  All he associated his family with were guilt and failure—his. And disappointment—theirs. Except for his mum—but then, she got the consolation prize of worrying about her youngest son all the time.

  ‘Now that,’ Ruby said, ‘was a very stupid thing to say.’

  Her matter-of-fact words made him blink. ‘Pardon me?’

  She didn’t back down—but then, she never did.

  ‘You heard me.’

  She spoke without anger, and something—something about how sure she was of his apparent stupidity—made him smile.

  ‘I like you, Ruby Bell.’

  ‘You keep saying that.’

  He stood up, holding out a hand for her. ‘I think I just figured out the reason I invited you.’

  ‘Invited? Is that what you call it?’

  But she was smiling as she wrapped her fingers around his. They were just slightly cool, but where they touched his skin they triggered instant heat.

  ‘I reckon we go enjoy this party.’

  Whatever Ruby might think, right now he didn’t need to talk.

  But then, he didn’t want a mindless distraction either.

  Quite simply, he wanted Ruby.

  TEN

  Later—much later—Ruby leant against the mirrored walls of the penthouse’s private elevator, and grinned at Dev.

  ‘That was fun,’ she said. She felt good, buzzing with a touch of champagne, her toes pleasantly sore from hours of dancing.

  ‘Yeah,’ he said, with a slightly bemused smile. ‘I know.’

  The elevator doors slid open, and Ruby stepped out, her boot heels loud on the foyer’s marble floor. A lamp on a spindly-legged side table glowed softly, only partially lighting the room.

  But two steps later, she stopped dead.

  ‘Where am I sleeping?’

  Dev laughed behind her, and Ruby turned to look at him. He’d propped his shoulders against the wallpaper beside the shiny elevator door, and he looked at her with a sparkle to his eyes.

  He pointed at the floor. ‘I booked you a suite on the floor below.’

  ‘What’s so funny?’ she asked. But the narrowing of her eyes was more a habit now. At some point he’d stopped being quite so irritating.

  Come to think of it, for at least half the night—more if she disregarded the whole favour debacle—he’d been quite the opposite.

  ‘This is a private elevator. You’ll need to go all the way back to the lobby. When we arrived I didn’t think.’

  ‘Oh,’ she said, nodding.

  Dev didn’t move. His jacket was thrown haphazardly over his arm, and part of his shirt had untucked itself. He should look like a mess. Instead he looked...rather appealing.

  Dishevelled. Yes. That was the word for it.

  Ruby blinked, and attempted to refocus. She needed to go to her room.

  As she walked to the elevator Dev didn’t move. He just stayed where he was, looking at her with an unreadable expression.

  She pushed the down button—the only button on the shiny brass panel.

  And waited.

  Not for the elevator door to open—as it did that immediately—but for...something.

  The doors had opened fully now, and Ruby could see herself reflected in its walls. She looked into her own eyes, trying to determine what was going on here. Why she was still outside the elevator.

  Her gaze wasn’t so unsure though. Her gaze was...

  The doors shut again, and now all she could see of herself was the blurriest of silhouettes.

  ‘You’re still here,’ Dev said.

  Out of the corner of her eye she knew he hadn’t moved. But he was watching her. Waiting.

  Now all she could hear was the sound of her own breathing—definitely faster than was normal.

  She turned, a slow, deliberate movement.

  And then Dev was there, standing right in front of her. So close.

  She tilted her chin upwards to catch his gaze.

  ‘I’m still here.’ There was a long pause. ‘You’re very difficult to resist, you know that?’

  His gaze, already warm, flickered hotter.

  She reached out, her fingers toying with the untucked hem of his shirt, then travelling upwards, tracing his buttons in slow, irregular movements. ‘Maybe it’s the whole world-famous-movie-star thing.’

  She felt him tense beneath her fingertips. ‘Maybe,’ he said. But his tone was flat.

  Her exploration had reached his collar, skimming across its sharp, starched edge. Then she was touching skin: the cords of his neck. His jaw. Hot beneath her touch.

  ‘Or maybe not,’ she said. Then she looked up again, looked up into those blue, blue eyes.

  Who was she looking at? At Devlin Cooper, Hollywood star? Or Dev, the man who made her heart flip, and who managed to make her smile just as regularly as he pushed her buttons? Who made her breath catch when he allowed her a glimpse of his true self? The man who’d calmly cleaned up her kitchen and who’d reached for her hand in his mother’s front hall?

  Could he tell that for her there really was no question?

  Yes, she thought as he leant towards her, and as she stood on impatient tiptoes.

  Yes, she thought as their lips finally met, and as he pulled her tight against him—and before the incredible touch of his mouth obliterated the possibility of any further thinking at all.

  Dev woke, gradually. It was dark—very much night still.

  As his eyes adjusted in the black
ness, Ruby’s shape materialised before him. She slept on her side, facing him. He liked the way the sheet followed her shape, up along the long length of her legs, over the roundness of her hips, then down to the dip of her waist.

  She was asleep, her breathing slow and regular.

  How long had he been asleep for?

  He turned over, reaching for his phone on the bedside table. Pressing the button to make the screen illuminate simply confirmed what he’d suspected: it was two in the morning. He’d slept for less than an hour.

  He bit back a groan. What had he expected? One visit to see his mum and suddenly life would be back to normal? He’d finally be able to sleep?

  Well—yes. That was exactly it.

  It was exactly why after all these weeks he’d finally sat down about twenty-four hours ago—once again unable to sleep—and listened to every single one of his mother’s voicemail messages, no matter how much it hurt.

  The decision to charter a flight and attend the party had come much later the next day, out of the blue. He hadn’t questioned it at the time, nor his decision to take Ruby with him.

  And he didn’t regret either decision. Tonight had been...he didn’t know. Something good. A step forward maybe.

  To where he had no idea, but the sense of moving in any direction was certainly a welcome contrast to the past few months.

  Except—he still couldn’t sleep.

  He wasn’t magically cured.

  It made him want to hit something.

  Instead, he pushed himself off the bed in jerky, frustrated movements, and headed for the en suite. He shut the door carefully behind him before switching on the light, not wanting to wake Ruby.

  Someone had ensured his zip-up bag of toiletry supplies had made it into the bathroom, and he barely had to look into it to find the familiar tray of tablets. A moment later he’d pushed a couple out onto his hand, but, rather than transferring them to his mouth, he found himself just staring at them.

  He was reluctant to take them with Ruby here. They lasted a good five hours, and if Ruby tried to wake him before then he’d be groggy, a mess.

  Last time she stayed with him, he’d lain on the couch, wanting to put distance between himself and Ruby. Then, after her aborted attempt to leave, he hadn’t thought twice about his tablets. He’d known she’d be gone in the morning, and told himself he didn’t care—that it was exactly what he wanted.

  But tonight that option held no appeal. He didn’t want to retreat to another room, and he didn’t want to be a drugged-out lump beside her.

  Was it so much to ask? A night where he got to be normal again? Where he could sleep beside a beautiful woman with only thoughts of her in his stupid head, and not useless things he could do nothing about?

  He just wanted to sleep beside Ruby. To wake beside her and not feel as if the weight of the world were on his shoulders, or that getting out of bed was an impossible option.

  He dropped the tablets into the sink, then twisted the tap so hot water chased them down the drain.

  Decision made, he switched off the bathroom light, and climbed back beneath the sheets.

  But once there, even the gentle in and out of Ruby’s breathing proved no use.

  Sleep was as elusive as always. Tonight was no different from the many nights before it.

  Finally, hating himself, he surrendered—to the pills, and to the necessary oblivion of sleep.

  Dev was still asleep when Ruby stepped out of the bathroom. She wrapped her arms around herself as she watched him, cosy in the thick terry-towelling robe she wore. He slept just as he had that morning—was it really only last week?—when she’d agreed to the silly deal that had landed her here. Which was like a log, basically.

  Now what?

  Briefly she considered repeating her exit from a fortnight earlier—and simply disappearing.

  But this morning, that just didn’t seem right. Or, at least not an option she was letting herself think too much about.

  She’d get dressed, then figure out what would happen next. After all, that would fit the theme of the last twenty-four hours—making decisions without pretty much any thought of the consequences.

  Her clothes were puddled on the floor, and as she bent to gather them in her arms her familiar red carry-on suitcase caught her attention. It lay on its back, right beside Dev’s backpack, in front of a wardrobe.

  Disappearing was suddenly a very viable option, she decided as she stalked on bare feet to their luggage.

  Had he really even booked her another room? How dared he assume—?

  But just before she snatched the bag up, an unevenly folded note drew her attention, balanced atop the red fabric.

  She’d barely read the single handwritten sentence, when she heard a sleepy laugh behind her.

  ‘I had the concierge organise for your bag to be brought up here after you fell asleep.’

  Oh.

  ‘I thought you might want your things.’

  She turned to face him. He’d raised himself onto his elbows, the sheet falling low to reveal the delicious strength of his chest.

  She glanced down at Dev’s note again, his neat all-capitals script.

  ‘Cross my heart,’ he added, into her continued silence.

  She believed him—that wasn’t the issue. It was just taking her a moment to absorb the thoughtfulness of the gesture—firstly that he’d thought to organise for her bag to be delivered, and secondly that he knew her well enough to guess her reaction at the bag’s discovery.

  It felt...nice.

  ‘Thanks,’ she said.

  He rubbed at his eyes, his movements slow and heavy-looking. ‘How does breakfast in bed sound? Room service here is exceptional.’

  And just like that, she’d decided what she was doing next.

  They ended up spending the day in Sydney.

  With no driver—and Dev in dark glasses and a baseball cap—they headed for Bondi beach.

  Ruby had pointed out an advertisement as she’d read the paper, the many Sunday sections spread like giant colourful confetti across the bed. Sculpture by the Sea.

  Dev couldn’t say he was a regular visitor to art exhibitions, but he figured he could do a lot worse than walking from Bondi along the coast down to Tamarama—with Ruby. So yeah, he was sold.

  It was a mild October day, and yet keen sunbathers still dotted the beach. They both held their shoes in their hands as they walked, the sand smooth beneath their feet and the ocean as perfect a blue as the sky.

  ‘Where’s the art?’ Dev asked.

  Ruby smiled and pointed vaguely ahead of them, the slight breeze ruffling her hair. ‘I think it starts down there somewhere?’

  But really, neither of them was too worried about the sculptures.

  During the short drive from the city, they’d chatted easily—a continuation of their easy breakfast picnic-of-sorts on his bed. It all stayed very light, which suited him just fine.

  No talk about anything serious. No talk about last night, and certainly no talk about tomorrow.

  But now, in Bondi, they’d gone quiet.

  Not an awkward silence—quite the opposite. But still, Dev didn’t like it.

  ‘What’s your favourite movie?’ Ruby said—all in a rush, as if maybe she didn’t like the silence either. ‘I mean, of yours. That you’ve been in.’

  As she walked she stared at a spot somewhere on the sand ahead of her.

  ‘Now You See Her,’ he said, immediately.

  She looked up at him, her eyes squinting a little in the glare. ‘I’ve never heard of it.’ She paused a second. ‘Sorry.’

  He smiled. ‘Good. It’s awful. I had about two lines in it, a straight-to-video effort filmed on the Gold Coast when I was twenty.’

  ‘And so it’s your favourite because?’

  ‘I got paid for it. My first paid role in a movie.’

  They’d reached the end of the beach and paused to step back into their shoes before walking up a small ramp to the footpath.r />
  ‘That’s interesting,’ she said. ‘Not your first starring role, or first blockbuster, or first Golden Globe nomination?’

  ‘Nope. It was the money in my bank account—as small amount as it was. Proved it wasn’t just a dream—but that it could be my career.’

  They walked a little further without speaking, past the famous Bondi Icebergs swimming club. Dev had been here a few times—not to swim in a pool so close to the ocean that the Pacific’s waves often broke straight into it, but to the bar. For a few promotional events, the occasional dinner...

  Irrationally he imagined coming back here with Ruby, in summer, to swim. For a moment he could almost see it—her hair slicked back just as it had been after her shower this morning, smiling at him across the water...

  But he quickly erased that idea—he wouldn’t be in Australia in summer, he’d be in Hollywood.

  By then, everything would be back to how it was. And Ruby would be off working on her next film, along with all her rules about dating cast and crew, and her refusal to ever settle down in one location.

  ‘Dev?’

  Ruby had asked him a question, he realised. ‘Sorry, I was...’ He ran a hand through his hair. ‘What did you say?’

  ‘I was worried I’d offended you,’ she said. ‘Don’t worry, it was a stupid question.’

  He slanted her a look. ‘You do know you have to ask me it now?’

  But they’d reached a little temporary marquee—the start of the sculpture walk. A few minutes later, equipped with a catalogue, they’d descended a series of stairs to reach the first set of sculptures, scattered across the tiers of rocks that lined the cove and spread their way into the ocean.

  Ruby stood in front of one—a giant red nail that appeared to have been hammered between the rocks, tall enough to loom above them both.

  ‘What was your question?’

  She sighed. ‘It was nothing. I was just saying I was surprised that the money meant so much to you.’

  ‘Given my background,’ he finished for her.

  She shifted her weight awkwardly. ‘As I said, a stupid thing to say.’