words changed everything, as if she’d flicked a switch. From defensive, and shuttered, his expression was suddenly...considering?
But Ruby didn’t think for a moment that he’d simply accepted she was just doing her job. This was different—more calculating.
‘Here to help,’ he said to himself, as if he was turning the words over in his head.
Then he smiled, a blinding, movie-star smile.
And Ruby had absolutely no idea what had just happened.
It was dumb—really dumb—that he was surprised.
Heck—if he were the producer on this film, he’d have done the same thing.
It didn’t mean he had to be happy about it.
He’d never been this kind of actor before; he’d never needed to be led around on some imaginary leash. Lord—he’d thought Graeme was bad enough.
And, of course, it had to be Ruby in charge of him.
It was a total waste of her time, of course. On set, he was fine, and not the fine he told himself he was whenever he was convincing himself to fall asleep.
He followed just slightly behind her. She was talking, quite rapidly, but he really wasn’t paying much attention.
She was nervous, for sure. He did like that.
And he did like how the tables had turned. Last night she’d called the shots. Today—it was him.
Juvenile? Yes.
Fun? He thought so.
So Paul thought he needed looking after? No problem.
He’d be that actor, then. The ridiculous type who wanted everything in their trailer periwinkle blue, or who would only drink a particular brand of mineral water—not available locally, of course.
He’d prove Paul right—and irritate the self-important producer in the process.
A small win.
And it would push Ruby’s buttons too—trigger that flare of response he’d already witnessed a handful of times, and was eager to experience again.
Dev smiled, just as Ruby stopped before a hulking white trailer and turned to face him.
Her forehead wrinkled as she studied him, as if she knew something was up.
He just smiled even more broadly.
Yes, this was an excellent idea.
Completely focused on the email she was reading—Arizona’s agent, confirming that his client was available to attend an opening in Sydney the following week—Ruby picked up her loudly ringing phone from her overflowing desk without glancing at the screen.
‘Ruby Bell.’
‘Ruby.’ A pause. ‘Good afternoon.’
There was no point pretending she didn’t recognise that voice. Her disloyal body practically shivered in recognition.
‘How can I help, Mr Cooper?’ she asked with determined brightness, her eyes not wavering from her laptop screen, although the email’s words and sentences had somehow become an indecipherable alphabet jumble.
Even so, she tapped randomly on her keyboard. For her benefit, mostly, a reminder that she was a busy film professional who received phone calls from famous actors All The Time. She was working. This was her job.
No need for her mouth to go dry or for her cheeks to warm.
‘Well,’ he said, ‘I have a problem.’
‘Yes?’ she prompted, with some trepidation.
He’d been scrupulously polite this morning. Allowed her to take him from appointment to appointment. He’d chatted inanely about the weather, and charmed every person she introduced him to.
But...
Occasionally he’d slant a glance in her direction that meant...she had absolutely no idea.
It wasn’t about last night any more. She was sure. No question he’d long lost interest in perfectly average Ruby Bell by now.
Definitely.
‘I can’t figure out how to use the wireless Internet in my cottage.’
Oh. Her skin went hotter. Of course his phone call had nothing to do with her. Of course it didn’t.
Hadn’t she told him—what, three hours ago?—to call her any time?
Ruby took a deep breath. She really needed to pull herself together.
‘I’m sorry to hear that, Mr Cooper,’ she replied. ‘I’ll get that sorted for you straight away.’
‘Appreciate it,’ he said, and then the phone went silent.
Carefully, she placed her phone back onto her desk, darting her gaze about the room. She half expected everyone to be staring at her, to know exactly how flustered she was, despite all her efforts to not be. To somehow know that Dev had all but propositioned her outside the salubrious Lucyville Motel, even though she’d told her intrigued friends she hadn’t seen Dev after she’d left the pub last night.
To know that chaperoning Dev around set this morning was stupidly difficult, despite her constant mental reminders that it was so not a big deal, and that she was a professional and they were both adults who could work together professionally despite the running-into-him thing, or the not-recognising-him thing, or saying-no-to-the-most-eligible-bachelor-in-the-world thing.
But no. Rohan worked quietly at his desk. Cath stood in front of the large whiteboard calendar, studying it with fierce concentration and a marker in her hand. Selena wasn’t even in the room—she was out, busily signing in extras.
Ruby bit back a sigh. She was being ridiculous.
So she tilted her head left to right, rolled her shoulders a few times, wriggled her toes—and told herself she was cool, and calm and collected. She was!
And then she got back to work.
Less than an hour later, Dev stepped out onto the deck at the back of his cottage, sliding shut the glass door firmly behind him. Inside, one of the more junior members of the production office was busily fixing his ‘broken’ Internet.
He pressed his phone to his ear.
‘Ruby Bell,’ she said when she answered, sounding as brisk and polite as she had earlier.
‘Ms Bell,’ he said, ever so politely, ‘thank you. I now have Internet.’
Well, he would once the guy inside realised the router had been unplugged.
‘Oh, good,’ she said. There was a beat or two of silence, and then she added, ‘Can I
