Free Saving Grace (Madison Falls) by Lesley Ann McDaniel Page B

face warmed. “What’s that?”
    “Decent coffee. I’m sorry, but the good people of Madison Falls don’t know a Breve from a Macchiato.”
    She let out a laugh. “I’d have to agree.” A momentary panic seized her. Her guard had slipped like a clumsy soprano on a raked stage. “About Madison Falls, I mean. I’ve never been to New York.”
    He folded his arms across the counter, clearly in no hurry to seek a satisfying beverage elsewhere. “And where are you from?”
    Her heart jumped. “What?”
    “Well, you’re new here, and obviously no stranger to the theatre business. I’m guessing Chicago.”
    The flush crept further up her cheeks. Was he onto her?
    “Se…attle.” The word crawled from her lips like the lie it was.
    “Seattle.” He arched an eyebrow. “Really?”
    She nodded. It wasn’t entirely untrue. She’d worked there several times and had lived in apartments. It had been ‘home’ for those few weeks.
    “Nice place.” His tone was lighthearted. “I hear they have decent coffee.”
    She nodded, swallowing her trepidation.
    He studied her. “So, you’re an actress then?”
    Was she? She hadn’t really invented a resume for her new identity, and her close proximity to Devon didn’t lend itself to clear career planning. “No. Just a patron.” Her words tumbled out too quickly. “I worked in a…in a pet store.” Where in the world had that come from?
    “Oh? Funny, I wouldn’t have pegged you for the feather and fur type. You seem so…”
    His eyes drifted up as if the right word might be etched in the ceiling.
    Grace edged in, anxious to learn how her act was reading.
    “So classy.” His eyes lowered to meet hers, seemingly satisfied with his assessment.
    “Thanks.” She let go of the tension in her shoulders. “It was an exotic pet store.”
    Raising his eyebrows, he nodded interest.
    Suddenly flustered, she grabbed for a bar towel. Overcome by a desire to overshare, she bit her lip. He seemed so insightful, if she said too much, he might see right through her. She’d have to keep the focus on him. “So you’re from New York?”
    “Lived there my whole life. With the exception of my years at Yale.”
    “Oh?”
    “And my directing forays out of town, of course.”
    “Of course.” It was her turn to study him. His presence here seemed as much a mystery as hers. What was he doing directing inconsequential plays in this practically nonexistent town? Clearly there was more to Devon Sinclair than met the eye.
    She absentmindedly wiped the counter. “So, what brings you here?”
    A sly smile played around the edges of his lips. “I felt the call of the wild.”
    She quirked an eyebrow.
    “Seriously, I needed a break from the pressure. I just felt like I was missing something in New York. I mean, the money is great there, but I started to miss that grassroots artistry you get in a smaller community.”
    She allowed a long look at his face. Having heard people talk that way many times, she’d never actually met anyone who had walked away from a lucrative career in search of true art. Her gaze narrowed. “You wanted artistry so you came here? ”
    His chuckle was almost lyrical. “I know it sounds strange, but this place has renewed my spirit. This is my third show here, and it’s changed my life. I’m very grateful I found Madison Falls, for reasons I would find difficult to explain.”
    Grace twisted the towel. That sounded benevolent and all, but had he really said goodbye to the high life in favor of the simple life? “But you said you were anxious to return home.”
    “What can I say?” He smiled. “True art doesn’t support many luxury vacations.”
    She lobbed back his smile. “So what are you doing here tonight, Mr. Sinclair? Besides prowling for coffee, I mean.”
    He lifted a hold-on finger before disappearing for a moment behind the bottom half of the door. When he stood, he placed the black Prada briefcase on the counter and clicked it open. “I’m