Amusement rather than desire bubbled through me. “And that is a fabulous pick-up line, Monsieur Lavigne—does it often work?”

He laughed. “Sadly, no. Women are so suspicious of a compliment these days.”

“Probably because past experience has given them reason.”

He hesitated. “It was sincerely meant, but I apologize if it made you uncomfortable. That was not my intent.”

“You didn’t, but thank you anyway. Where are you staying?”

“At the Chapel Boutique Apartments, in Albion Street.”

I didn’t know the apartments, but Albion Street was roughly halfway between the tavern and the museum and definitely within walking distance to both. Which could be handy if things did kick off between us.

We continued to make pleasant small talk as we picked up his bag and then walked across the road to the multi-story car park. The trip back to Deva didn’t take all that long, and it was with a vague sense of regret that I pulled into the small parking area opposite the Chapel Apartments.

“It has been a pleasure to meet you, Bethany Aodhán,” he said, with a friendly, polite smile. “Would it be too forward of me to ask for your phone number?”

“Not at all.” I gave it to him, then added, “Feel free to call if you need help with anything while you’re settling in.”

A devilish glint entered his eyes. “Such an open invitation could invite abuse. I am a stranger in this place, after all, and I do find it difficult to make friends.”

“Oh yeah, I can totally see that.”

His laugh was warm and easy. “I perhaps exaggerate just a little, but I would truly like to see you again. Can I take you to dinner in appreciation for picking me up?”

“I’m a little busy with the hunt at the moment but I’m sure we could work something out. Even my brother has to sleep sometime.”

“Sleep is very underrated,” he murmured, a wicked glint in his eyes. “I’ll talk to you soon, Bethany.”

He climbed out, collected his suitcase from the rear of the car, and gave me a salute as he went past and walked across the road to the apartments. I enjoyed the view from behind—he really did wear jeans particularly well—then sighed, started up the car, and headed home. After finding a parking spot relatively close to the tavern, I sent Lugh a message to inform him where it was and that I’d leave the keys on the coffee table in my living area. Then I headed to my computer to get in a couple of hours of paperwork before getting ready for my date.

Cynwrig opened the car door, then offered me a hand. I accepted it gratefully, swung my legs out of the chauffeured car, then rose. The dress was figure-hugging and ankle-length, though the split to my left thigh did make movement easier. A soft breeze ran around my stockinged legs but contained no scent of rain. Not that I was cold; even if my heavy woolen coat had been unable to keep the cold out, the heated appreciation emanating from the suited man standing to one side of me would have been more than enough to keep the chill at bay.