Free Why Resist a Rebel? by Leah Ashton Page B

booked, only a short walk from the crazily exclusive restaurant where she would be meeting Dev. Really soon.
    The dress sparkled prettily on her bed. She had her make-up and the perfect shade of nail polish raring to go in the bathroom.
    But she paused, rather than walking to the shower. She looked at herself reflected in the mirrored hotel wardrobe.
    There she was, in jeans and hair that had transitioned from deliberately choppy to plain old messy at some point in the day.
    She wouldn’t say she lacked confidence in herself or her looks. She didn’t think she was hideously un attractive, but... really? When Dev could have anyone, why her?
    It must be the challenge. It could be nothing else. And maybe he felt that he should be the one doing the rejecting, not her?
    She nodded, and she watched the movement reshuffle her hair just a little.
    Yes. That was it.
    And after tonight—that would be that. He’d have achieved his goal, and in a week’s time she’d be very, very old news.
    Which suited her just fine.
    Didn’t it?

FIVE
    Dev was late. Only a few minutes, but late, just the same.
    He’d meant to be later, actually, having liked the idea of Ruby sitting alone at the restaurant, getting increasingly frustrated with him.
    Simply because he enjoyed the flash of anger in her eyes almost as much as the heat of the attraction she was so determinedly—and continually—ignoring.
    But, after a while, he began to feel like a bit of an idiot sitting alone in his penthouse suite, mindlessly watching the Saturday night rugby, when the alternative was spending time with a beautiful...
    No, not beautiful. At least not on the standards that Hollywood judged beauty. But a compelling...intriguing woman. Yes, she was that.
    Unarguably more interesting than his own company.
    But when he was ushered into the private dining area of the exclusive restaurant by an impeccably well-mannered maître d’, he was met by a table exquisitely set for two—but no Ruby.
    His lips quirked as he settled into his seat. Interesting.
    The restaurant sat right on the edge of Circular Quay, its floor-to-ceiling windows forming a subtly curved wall that provided a spectacular view of the harbour. To the right were the dramatic sails of the opera house. Straight ahead was the incomparable harbour bridge. Lights illuminated the mammoth structure, highlighting its huge metal beams.
    He’d eaten at this restaurant before, and had certainly dined against a backdrop of the world’s most beautiful skylines many, many times—but he wouldn’t be human if he wasn’t impressed by sparkling Sydney by night.
    It was like nowhere else in the world.
    However. Sitting alone in a dining room that could seat thirty—and which he’d had organised for tonight to seat only two—even a remarkable view could quickly become boring.
    Which it did.
    A waiter came and offered him a taste of the wine he’d selected, then after pouring Dev’s glass he merged once again, silently, into the background.
    Minutes passed. Slowly, he assumed, as he refused to succumb and check his watch.
    He considered—then dismissed—the possibility that she wasn’t coming at all.
    No, she’d be here.
    Almost on cue, the door to the private room opened on whisper-smooth hinges. He looked up to watch Ruby being ushered inside. And then kept on looking.
    She wore a dress in greens and gold that caught and reflected every bit of light in the room. Her legs were long beneath a skirt that hit at mid thigh, and shown off to perfection by strappy, criss-crossed heels. When his gaze—eventually—met hers, he connected with eyes that were defiant and bold beneath a fringe that was smoother and more perfect than usual: not a golden strand out of place.
    Her lips curved in greeting, but he wouldn’t call it a smile.
    He stood as she approached the table, and she blinked a couple of times as he did so, her gaze flicking over him for the briefest of instants.
    The maître d’ received a genuine