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said, "You can put
your money away. Armand's taking care of you." He didn't sound
particularly pleased about it.
    "Oh. Um, okay. Thanks." She put a couple
dollars out for a tip.
    Twisting the bottle as he tipped it back, he
shoved the money back towards her. "Don't thank me. I'd charge you
double."
    That was a little more hostile than she
expected. To hell with him. He wasn't the first burly guy to try to
intimidate her. Construction sites were filled with super masculine
guys that didn't like some chick telling them what to do.
    "Thanks for your honesty," Julia told him
with a smile.
    Leaving the money on the bar, she grabbed her
purse and moved to one of the empty leather chairs where she could
watch the dance floor and the closed door where Armand had
disappeared to at the same time.
    After a few songs filled with aggressive
guitar riffs and screaming vocalists, the music changed. Gregorian
chants followed by soulful lyrics, a wailing violin, and pulsing
drums replaced them. It was another song she recognized. Something
obscure her sister had introduced her to. If she didn't already
feel like a million eyes were watching her, she'd get up and dance.
Instead, she closed her eyes and let the music seep through her,
moving her torso in barely perceptible movements to the melody.
    "You do know there's an empty dance floor in
front of you. As it is, only the chair has the pleasure of watching
you dance."
    Armand was sitting in the empty chair next to
her, a tiny smile on his full lips. Damn, that man was good at
being quiet.
    She'd like to blame it on the wine, but her
cheeks were flushed and she knew she was blushing. Um, school girl
again?
    "This bar plays the best music," she
admitted, like it was some excuse. Once again his expression was
slightly perplexed. "I know, I know. I don't look the type."
    "I try not to base my conclusions of a person
on appearance alone," he told her.
    "Oh, but you'd be right. It's my sister that
keeps me interesting. If Clare wasn't forever breaking me out of my
comfort zone I'd be completely boring, listening to Top 40 and
wondering why I didn't like it."
    "You're here though. And I don't think I see
your sister."
    She smiled. "I suppose so. But trust me, I'm
still boring."
    "I doubt that." His eyes lifted and she
followed his line of sight. The couple was just emerging from the
locked room. The woman's perfect pin curls were slightly tousled,
her pencil skirt a little askew. She wore the most satisfied
expression, and her movements were smooth and languid. The man had
the same, "I just had the best sex," or "I'm completely faded,"
expression and Julia would have written it off as either or both
until she noticed two perfect puncture wounds on his neck. A
teardrop of blood seeped from one and when the woman turned and saw
it, she used a finger to wipe it off, and then very suggestively
licked the blood from her finger. Catching Julia's startled gaze,
the woman flashed a slightly blood-smeared grin at her and
winked.
    Holy. Shit.
    Julia turned back to Armand, who was watching
her carefully. She tried to play it off like what she'd seen was
the most normal thing, to be as nonchalant as possible.
    "Well, I wouldn't feel bad for judging people
based on appearance from time to time," she said quickly. "I mean,
I do think that people tend to dress to be judged. If they're able,
of course. The guy wearing a football jersey usually wants you to
know he likes football." She was talking way too fast, she could
tell by the way the words seemed to blend together. Armand probably
thought she was the biggest kook at this point, but Julia couldn't
stop herself.
    "But as long as we remember to use our brains
and not just our eyes," she continued on in spite of her brain
trying to will her mouth to stop moving, "and we recognize that
there might be more than what's presented on the surface, we should
forgive ourselves for judging ' a book by its cover' from
time to time." She really needed to just shut up. This