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  The university hosted several literary events each year but the attendance at this one was higher than most. Amanda had expected to recognize most of the attendees but there were dozens of individuals who did not appear to be affiliated with Benbine.

  Will kept his hand under her elbow so they didn’t get separated in the crowd as they made their way across the marbled foyer. He led her to an alcove and scanned the room. “Wow. This guy must be something.”

  Still grappling with the realization that she was in love with a man wholly her opposite, Amanda wanted only to find Professor Mueller, spend a few minutes nodding and smiling, and then head home. Will’s interest in the guest of honor threatened to delay those plans.

  “There are even a couple of players from the 49ers here.” Will gave a low whistle. “That’s Nickelback Jimson. Did you see his comeback performance? Three touchdowns in one quarter.”

  “I didn’t know you like football.” Amanda followed Will’s line of vision and caught a glimpse of a broad-shouldered, light-skinned, African-American man. “What was he making a comeback from?”

  “Are you serious? He’s been out with some kind of knee injury. The game sold out after they announced his return. Lindsay managed to get a couple of tickets from her uncle. Really, Amanda, you should broaden your horizons. There’s more to life than books.”

  She couldn’t agree more. There was Jericho. Books and Jericho. What else did she need? Oh yeah. Sex. Sex and books and Jericho. She wasn’t sure how she was going to make that happen but she was impatient to begin trying.

  “There’s Timothy.” Will sighted the professor. “Ah, perfect. He just joined Jimson’s group. Let’s go. Maybe I can get an introduction.”

  “Ask for his autograph while you’re at it,” she muttered. It was going to take forever to pry Will away from the reception.

  She followed him through the throng, clinging to his hand. She didn’t want to lose her ride home. She wondered if it would be too late to call Jericho when she got back to the Pacific Heights mansion.

  Bodies pressed in around her but she heard Professor Mueller’s familiar voice.

  “Glad you made it, Will. Where’s our girl? I want both of you to meet tonight’s honoree. May I introduce—”

  Will moved a few inches to the side and pulled Amanda forward.

  Timothy smiled at her. “Oh there you are—”

  “Amanda Fine.” Jericho’s face tensed.

  The professor’s eyes widened. “I was not aware you two were acquainted.”

  “You’re the Marquis de Sade fan.” A redheaded woman pointed at her.

  Amanda realized the circle included the owner of the Wicked Words bookstore.

  The man Will had called Nickel- or Dime-something considered her with obvious interest. “Would that be Marky D’Saad of the Detroit Lions or the Marquis de Sade de pervert?”

  “So this is your peasant.” Will dropped her hand and stepped away.

  Between the curious stares and Jericho’s sharp eyes that missed nothing, Amanda felt like a bug under a microscope. She ignored the embarrassed flush rising up her neck and straightened her spine, meeting his stony stare. “I know this isn’t the best place or time, but could we talk? Maybe just a few minutes?”

  “You’re the girl with the ball.” The football player slapped Jericho on the back, hard enough to make him stumble. “Now I get it, J. Uh huh. I would have been a cranky prick too if a hot babe like her dumped me and took her game to another dude’s court.”

  “I didn’t dump him.”

  “She didn’t dump me.”

  Amanda and Jericho snarled the words simultaneously and looked away from each other.

  “This is the biatch? The one who had you groping your balls in the middle of the sidewalk? Very nice, Creegan, very nice.” The bookstore owner raked her gaze over Amanda.

  “Here now, young lady. I won’t have you calling one of my faculty members a butch or a bitch or whatever it was you said.” Professor Mueller frowned at the redhead.

  “Cool it, pops. No offense intended.” The woman flashed a gorgeous smile that seemed to confuse the professor.

  The buckshot conversation was starting to draw the attention of others around them. Jericho had not answered her nor had he moved from where he stood.

  Will cleared his throat and, with inimitable British aplomb, suggested now might be a good time to visit the buffet.

  As the others drifted away, Amanda and Jericho remained facing one another.

  “Can we talk?” Amanda fisted her hands to hide their nervous trembling. Waiting for a response, she had time to notice details she’d missed before. His hair wasn’t back in a ponytail; it had been cropped short. He was clean-shaven and wore a black tuxedo. With his confident stance and elegant attire, he fit right in with the university crowd. As handsome as this version was, she wanted the old Jericho. Her Jericho.

  “I gave you a chance to talk. You didn’t have anything to say then and I’m not interested in anything you might have to say now.” He hesitated, as if he wanted to add something else. “Goodbye, Amanda.”

  He walked past her, close enough that his arm brushed her shoulder.

  She thought she heard him moan.

  Chapter Sixteen

  For the rest of the night, Amanda watched from the back of the room as Benbine faculty and administrators fawned over and flattered Jericho. Will offered to take her home but she had unfinished business with the tattoo artist-turned-author.

  His curt dismissal surprised her, but she understood his reaction. She had a hell of a lot to make up for. She had been selfish and thoughtless, dragging him into a temporary fling without considering what he might want. She had used him, leveraging their fiery chemistry to avoid accountability. He had trusted her with his uninhibited lovemaking and emotional vulnerability and she had betrayed him.

  But the worst of her transgressions was the way she had judged him. The mistaken assumptions she made about him. False ideas based on his appearance and occupation. She’d thought she was protecting him from the criticism of others when the only person stereotyping him was her.

  She may have blown her chances with him because of her failure to see past his exterior. However the brief glimpses she’d caught of the man beneath the tattoo and jeans and long hair were enough to keep her from walking out in defeat. It had taken a while for the truth to sink in but Amanda loved him too much to give up without a fight.

  Earlier, she’d slipped over to the display featuring his book and publicity clips. Her face burned with shame when she found out exactly how wrong she’d been about him. Artist, photographer, world traveler, historian, author. What other dimensions did he possess?

  Incredibly talented lover.

  Her ink slinger was a definite hit with the women. Jealous, watching their flirtatious smiles and calculated hair tosses, she consoled herself with the observation that the grim expression never left his face. If anything, her world-class bad boy seemed uncomfortable with so much female attention.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention?”

  The university president tapped a microphone. Jericho stood next to him on the short dais.

  “Thank you for coming this evening. It has been an honor to showcase the debut publication of Mr. Jericho Creegan.”

  The president continued after a smattering of applause. “I had hoped to announce Mr. Creegan would be joining Benbine University as an adjunct professor, but we have not been able to lure him away from his other professional pursuits.”

  Dismay rumbled up from the crowd. Everything Amanda thought she had known about Jericho had been proven false tonight, so the prospect of him teaching didn’t surprise her.

  “That’s the bad news. The good news”—the president slid a quick glance at Jericho, who nodded—“is that Mr. Creegan has agreed to serve as a consultant for a new program yet to be publically unveiled.”

  An expectant hush fell over the audience. Jericho nervously pulled at h
is bow tie so it sat crooked. Amanda’s heart fluttered.

  “The Contemporary Studies program will offer Benbine students a comprehensive and objective perspective on topics and trends relevant to our local and global communities. The courses will be developed by non-traditional academics, such as Mr. Creegan. Let’s give him a warm Bennie welcome.”

  Shouts and catcalls rang out over the enthusiastic handclapping. Jericho shook the president’s hand and hurried off the stage. She saw him duck into a back hallway and took off after him.

  The corridor was dark except for the faint red glow of an exit sign. At the far end, Jericho crouched on his toes, hands dangling between his knees, tie trailing on the floor.

  “Congratulations.” A lame way to start the conversation, but she had to start somewhere.

  “Go away.”

  He no longer sounded angry, just tired. She took it as an encouraging sign.

  “Not until I’ve apologized.”

  She stood in front of him but he didn’t look up. Okay, so he wasn’t going to make this easy.

  “I’ve been wrong about so many things I don’t even know where to begin. I’m sorry for making decisions we should have made together. I’m sorry for making assumptions about what kind of person you are. I’m sorry for not having enough courage to trust you.” Her throat tightened. “I’m sorry for not giving us a chance. More than anything, I’m sorry for hurting you.”

  Jackknifing to his feet, he said nothing and tramped off. She didn’t know whether to stay or follow him. After a few steps, he stopped. She stared at his back, mentally begging him to turn around.

  “Just tell me one thing.” His voice had hardened again. “Why?”

  The question confused her. “Why what?”

  “Why would a rich, classy woman like you want to screw around with someone like me when you could have any guy in the world?”

  “What do you mean, a rich, classy woman like me? And why wouldn’t I want someone like you?” Her temper was starting to flare.

  He laughed but there was no humor. “Oh come on. The big house. Your fancy college job. And the pearls. Those goddamn fucking pearls.” Pivoting to face her, he shouted, “No one wears pearls nowadays except debutantes and old, blue-haired women whose maids serve them tea in the garden.”

  She didn’t know whether to scream or cry or laugh. So she wasn’t the only one guilty of stereotyping. The irony struck her, and she suddenly realized where Jericho’s faulty reasoning had led him.

  “Let me get this straight. You think because I live in a multimillion-dollar home and work for a prestigious university—which, by the way, is not the same thing as a college—and because I wear pearls that I’m some kind of uppity bitch who wouldn’t give you, a mere tattoo artist, the time of day unless it was for the thrill of slumming.” The rambling accusation left her breathless.

  “Yeah. That sums it up pretty good.”

  “Well. Sums it up well, not good.”

  “Whatever.” He started walking away again.

  “You’re wrong.”

  “Blame it on my English teacher. She sucked.”

  “You’re wrong about me.” Her words hung in the air.

  “Tell me something I don’t know. I was wrong when I thought you cared.”

  “God, Jericho. You are so fricking dense.” Amanda ran up and grabbed his sleeve. “That’s the only thing you have right. I do care. Hell, I love you. All those other ideas you have about me are wrong.”

  “What did you say?” He froze.

  “You’re wrong. I’m house-sitting. And these pearls belonged to my grandma. She died two months before I finished my doctorate. I wear them because they make me feel close to her.”

  “No. Before that.” His voice was thick with disbelief.

  She smiled in the dark. “You’re dense?”

  His arms came around her and she burrowed into his chest.

  “After that.”

  “I love you.”

  He sighed, his breath warm on her skin. “I never thought I’d hear you say that. You have no idea how much I’ve missed you.” He kissed her long and hard to prove how much.

  It was like putting a match to kindling. In seconds, Amanda was hot and wet and achy. She pushed Jericho into the wall, twining herself around him. He propped a foot on the wall and nudged her atop his bent knee. She rocked back and forth until a shuddering orgasm overcame her. He captured her moans in taunting, open-mouth kisses that promised more pleasure.

  “Your hair.” She threaded her fingers through the short strands. “Why did you cut your beautiful, sexy hair?”

  “You just got yourself off by rubbing up against me in the library of an upstanding, well-respected university and you’re worried about my hair?” His chuckle reverberated deep in his chest.

  “Well…yes.”

  “I chop it every three years. On whatever day my mom gets another all-clear from her oncologist. I donate it to be made into wigs for cancer patients.”

  She pulled back and looked up at him. “What other wonderful things do I not know about you?”

  “We both have a lot to learn about each other. Now that we’ve straightened out the basics, there’s probably just one other vital piece of information you need.”

  “Can you tell me on the way to your place?” She wanted more than a hallway quickie with her tux-wearing, clean-cut, make-your-panties-wet, world-class bad boy, and he had promised her a king-size bed and big-screen TV.

  “Let’s go.” He wound his fingers through hers. “The money doesn’t matter.”

  People had begun leaving but there was still a crowd in the library. Jericho ignored those waving at him. Amanda saw Will, who gave her a thumbs-up.

  “What money?” she asked.

  “Your money.”

  “I don’t have any money.”

  “I know. I love you anyhow.”

  At the edge of the parking lot, in front of Benbine University’s Adelsperger Library and several curious reception guests, Amanda Fine, a not-so-traditional literature professor, and Jericho Creegan, a not-so-unconventional tattoo artist, took their first breath together.

  Love without passion is life without breath.

  About Margo Diamond

  Margo Diamond is a multi-published, award-winning author who enjoys writing contemporary romance featuring sexy heroes and sassy heroines. When not plotting her next novel, she enjoys volunteering within the romance writing community and has served at the local and national level within RWA.

  Margo welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email addresses on her author bio page at www.ellorascave.com.

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  What Lies Beneath

  ISBN 9781419942952

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  What Lies Beneath Copyright © 2015 Margo Diamond

  Edited by Jill Noelle

  Cover design by Allyse Leodra

  Cover photography by Shutterstock

  Electronic book publication April 2015

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