A Trace of Passion Read online

  Back Cover

  A Short Erotica Romance Story by Danielle Ravencraft

  Ophelia’s in for a birthday surprise that turns out to be a birthday nightmare as she’s reunited with hunky rock star, Trace Curtis. The pain of her defiance runs deep and he won’t leave Ophelia alone without an explanation. The more time they spend together, the more their passion grows. Ophelia knows in her heart she should tell Trace the truth, but will her secret drive him away?

  A Trace of Passion © 2012 by Danielle Ravencraft

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, or events, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  MuseItUp Publishing

  14878 James, Pierrefonds, Quebec, Canada, H9H 1P5

  http://www.museituppublishing.com

  Cover Art © 2012 by Delilah K. Stephans

  Edited by Carrie RO

  Copyedited by Valerie Haley

  Layout and Book Production by Lea Schizas

  eBook ISBN: 978-1-927361-59-7

  First eBook Edition * January 2012

  Production by MuseItUp Publishing

  Dedications

  To my beta readers and best friends, Charlene A. Wilson and Anastasia V. Pergakis, for holding my hand and cheering me on.

  Also to the lovely women who blog with me on the Ravencraft Romance Realm; Marsha A. Moore, Bri Clark, Deanna Jewel, Kay Dee Royal, and Sharon Hamilton.

  A Trace of Passion

  Danielle Ravencraft

  MuseitHOT, division of

  MuseItUp Publishing

  www.museituppublishing.com

  ADULT CONTENT: Contains graphic sexual content.

  A TRACE OF PASSION

  By Danielle Ravencraft

  Ophelia rushed into the first stall. Her nose wrinkled. She never understood how other women managed to pee on the rim of the toilet…or the floor for that matter. She was about to try the next stall when the restroom door opened, followed by a cloud of shouting and the click of high heels. Ophelia yanked the stall lock home and backed into the corner between the drippy toilet and the metal frame.

  She managed to avoid the House of Blues for eleven months, twenty-four days, six hours and eleven minutes. But fate twisted a knife in her back one week ago when her friends surprised her with tickets to a Molten Silk concert for her birthday.

  They didn’t know. She hadn’t told anyone. Now she wished she had.

  This morning, her mind stooped so low as to consider telling her friends she was ill. But she couldn’t disappoint them. Molten Silk tickets were expensive and the girls had pooled their money together to make sure she had a great birthday.

  Once the door swung closed, the tile amplified the click of the woman’s heels as she neared. “Ophelia, are you in here?”

  Her breath hitched as she debated her next move. This is stupid. I can’t hide in the women’s bathroom all night. But she could try.

  “Ophelia?”

  She squeezed her eyes shut. “I’m in here.” Damn it.

  Ophelia glanced at the space between the stall and the floor as a pair of black stilettos came into view.

  “The show’s about to start. Are you all right?”

  She sighed and unlocked the stall door. It swung open to reveal the tall brunette. “I’m fine,” Ophelia smiled. “Just using the bathroom.”

  “Well hurry up,” Alana urged.

  Ophelia strolled to the sink and washed her hands. He won’t recognize me. It’s been almost a year. He probably has a real girlfriend now. Her chest constricted and she winced. How could she still have feelings for him after all this time?

  Alana rolled her eyes. “Ophelia, I love you but if you move any slower I’m going to have to hurt you. Now let’s go!” She grabbed Ophelia’s hand and flung her out of the restroom into the crowd chanting “Mol-ten Silk! Mol-ten Silk!” The venue was packed to the brim, muggy, and smelled like B.O. She wouldn’t have minded except her friends had their hearts set on standing in the middle of B.O. central. The pair squeezed through the crowd until they caught up with the bubbly blonde standing alone in the center. “Oh good, you found the birthday girl,” Lizzy yelled over the demanding horde. She clapped her hands in excitement. Ophelia managed a small smile. Alana stretched her neck and glanced around. “Did I miss anything?”

  Ophelia looked too, taking note of the obese gentleman on the left. She could always duck behind him. She doubted anyone would notice. Although, with an energetic crowd of rough rock’n’roll fans, ducking of any sort could be suicide.

  Lizzy leaned toward Alana and opened her mouth to speak, but the lights dimmed and the crowd erupted in cheers. Ophelia winced as her stomach did a flip-flop. She touched her fingers to her lips. I hope I don’t vomit.Smoke spilled from the stage like a waterfall as the curtain lifted. Five male silhouettes stood in the dark. The one on the right strummed his guitar, earning shrill applause from the audience. Lights of every color illuminated the stage as the rest of the band joined in the performance. Ophelia’s gasp went unnoticed as her friends cheered.

  Trace Curtis stood center stage, microphone in hand. His voice flowed in harmony with the guitar riffs. His black, unbuttoned vest accentuated his flawless chest and chiseled abs. His black curls were a bit longer than she remembered and hung over his baby-blue eyes. Ophelia’s throat dried and she struggled to swallow. “I’m going to get a drink,” she said to herself. She backed away from her star-struck friends.

  Ophelia didn’t breathe until she reached the bar at the very back. Her breath rushed past her lips in a heavy sigh as she sat on the worn leather stool and ordered a beer. The bartender winked at her as he handed her selection. Ophelia bit her lip. The old man remembers me after all this time…

  The lyrics stopped. The microphone gave a squeal amplified to a glass-shattering pitch. Ophelia cupped her hands over her ears and turned in her seat without thinking. Everyone stared at Trace. His eyes were so wide, she saw the whites despite the distance and crowd. Everyone slowly turned to face her. Heat rushed to her cheeks. She faced the bar and pressed the neck of the beer bottle to her lips. Just keep singing, Trace. Please, just keep singing.

  Rustling noises came from the speakers as Molten Silk rearranged themselves. Trace cleared his throat. His bashful voice spoke into the microphone. “Sorry about that, ladies and gentlemen. Minor technical issue…”

  The show resumed after a moment, but Trace’s lack of zest was painfully obvious. Ophelia’s shoulders curled forward as she leaned her elbows against the counter and stared into space. She wished she could turn invisible or hide behind the bar for the rest of the night. Five beers later, the concert came to an end and the lights brightened. The throng of fans ebbed their way to the door. Since the bar was near the exit, Ophelia stayed put so her friends could find her.

  “Ophelia?” Alana’s voice came out like gravel from screaming all night. “Have you been back here this whole time?”

  Ophelia pressed the beer’s neck to her lips and swallowed the last sip in answer.

  Lizzy took a seat next to her. “You missed the whole concert?” Ophelia managed a small smile. “I didn’t miss it. I could hear it loud and clear from here.”

  “That’s not the same. The bassist almost high-fived me.”

  Alana scoffed. “Hardly. There was at least five feet worth of heads between us and the stage.”

  Ophelia shrugged. “It was a great show, really. I just didn’t feel lik
e standing all night.”

  “Well that makes you smarter than me.” Alana reached down and undid the straps of her stilettos. “My feet feel like they got run over by a cement truck.” She pulled off her shoes and sighed in relief.

  Lizzy wrinkled her nose. “Ew, Alana, this floor is filthy.”

  Ophelia chewed her lip as she watched the crowd grow thinner. She stood and ran her clammy palms over her hips as if trying to smooth out her jeans. “Come on, let’s go.”

  Alana carried her shoes as they headed toward the exit. A large, bald man in a tight T-shirt and jeans carrying a walkie-talkie stepped in front of the door. “Ladies, the band requests your company. If you’ll wait by the bar, Trace Curtis himself will be out in ten.”

  Oh no. Ophelia’s stomach clenched in unease.

  “Are you serious? Us?” Alana arched her brow.

  The bouncer inclined his head. “You’re Ophelia, right?”

  Her cheeks burned. Before she could deny anything, Lizzy chimed in. “Yes, that’s Ophelia. How did you know her name?”

  The bouncer gestured to the bar. “Why don’t you ladies have a seat? Mr. Curtis will be out soon.”

  Alana and Lizzy squealed and hugged each other. Lizzy hooked her arm around Ophelia’s as they made their way back to the bar. “How did that bouncer know you?”

  Ophelia’s mouth was too dry to answer so she shrugged. The girls settled into the bar and fidgeted while they waited. Images of Trace filled her thoughts. Trace on the street corner, holding her while she tried to say goodbye… I won’t lose you again, Ophelia. I promise you that... The keys on Trace’s cellphone as she pressed and entered a random number into his contacts list… I’ll keep you with me always… She wished she could turn invisible or steal Alana’s car and run.

  “I wonder what happened in the middle of the show.” Alana interrupted Ophelia’s thoughts. “I don’t think it was a technical problem.”

  “Yeah,” said Lizzy. “He looked like he recognized someone in the audience. Wish I could have seen who it was.”

  Ophelia bit her lip. Her friends still didn’t know. Would Trace confront her in front of them? Would he blurt out that they had sex? Why else would he have a bouncer stop them?

  “Ophelia, are you okay?” Lizzy touched the back of her hand to Ophelia’s forehead. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  Alana laughed. “She gets like that around Trace.”

  Ophelia’s eyes widened. She wanted to tell Alana to shut up, but couldn’t find her voice.

  Lizzy nodded. “I’m excited too. I mean, can you believe we’re going to meet the Trace Curtis? And on your birthday.”

  Alana erupted in laughter. “Lizzy, don’t you know? Trace used to—” Ophelia kicked Alana’s shin. She jumped then bent to rub her leg. “What was that for?”

  Ophelia hesitated but was saved by the sound of footsteps. “Someone’s coming,” she murmured.

  Trace stepped from behind the curtain and descended the stage. He no longer sported the revealing vest, but the cotton T-shirt wasn’t much better, as the material stretched thinly over the planes of his chest. “Ladies, thanks so much for waiting.”

  Ophelia glanced away and shaded her face with a hand while Lizzy hiked up her skirt and Alana flashed a smile. Nausea knotted Ophelia’s stomach until she was certain she’d either vomit or faint. What would she say to him? What could she say to him?

  “Ophelia,” he whispered her name. “It’s been a long time.”

  “Wow, I didn’t think you’d remember us,” Alana said.

  Ophelia snapped her head in Alana’s direction. She glared at her friend, heat burning her cheeks. Trace glance at Alana as well, his brows pulled together in thought.

  Lizzy thrust her palm forward. “Wait, how do you guys know each other?”

  Beads of sweat formed on Ophelia’s brow. She wanted to deny that she knew him, but Alana would catch the lie in a heartbeat.

  “We went to high school together.”

  Trace’s brow rose. “The cheerleader, right? Alana…Thorton?”

  Alana placed a hand over her chest. “Aw, you remember.”

  Ophelia rolled her eyes. Of course he’d remember the name of the captain of the cheerleading squad. Alana and Ophelia had been best friends since the third grade. They somehow managed to stay close despite their differences but the student body never noticed. While Alana shook pompoms, Ophelia buried her nose in books.

  Lizzy gasped. “You went to school with us?”

  Trace blushed and ran his fingers through his hair. The curls immediately fell over his eyes again. “I lived in the States for a year.”

  “His real name is Mathew Curtis,” Ophelia mumbled. Trace narrowed his eyes at her. Oh no. Why did I open my mouth? She clenched her jaw and looked at the floor.

  “Mathew?” Lizzy said the name as if she could taste it. “Mathew…Curtis?” Her eyes lit with recognition. “Not the Mathew Curtis that was always hitting on the lunch ladies?”

  Trace blushed. “I only did it for the free pizza.”

  Lizzy’s squeal had everyone cupping their ears. When she finally stopped, Alana placed a hand on Trace’s arm and smiled. “Why don’t you come with us? It’s Ophelia’s birthday and we’re having a party at my apartment; nothing wild, just some friends and some beer. We can catch up.”

  What? Ophelia glanced at her friend in horror and wet her lips. “I’m sure Trace is busy.”

  “Actually, I’m not at all busy.” Trace narrowed his gaze and grinned at Ophelia. Her breath hitched. “Happy birthday, by the way,” he said, winking.

  * * * *

  Trace found himself seated on Alana’s couch, surrounded by people he didn’t know. Alana introduced her husband, Joel. Trace recognized the former football player and bantered with him about their youthful shenanigans. Trace enjoyed himself. The way they referred to him as Mathew made him feel at home instead of another disposable celebrity. But Alana and Joel had only known him for one year. When his father passed, his mother decided to sell everything and move them back to London. Eventually, the fun shifted to other high school memories Trace was not a part of.

  The fan-girl, Lizzy, plunked herself thigh-to-thigh on the couch with Trace, oblivious to the discomfort of everyone around her. She watched and listened to the conversation, laughing and nodding her head at all the correct times. Trace knew Lizzy’s type from years on the road. She was the swooning chick who dreamed of fucking him, but would never actually do it. Trace had no intention of leading her to think there was a chance anyway.

  He pressed the beer bottle to his lips and took a swig, letting his thoughts wander. His initial plan was to entertain her friends for a little while before stealing Ophelia away and demanding an explanation. But when he recognized Alana from his junior year in an American high school, a piece of the puzzle fell into place and he ran with the decision to stick around her friends a bit longer.

  Now that the attention was off him, he let his gaze linger around the cramped apartment. Ophelia was silent through the quick car ride here and then disappeared into the group of guests the second she got a chance. Trace couldn’t spot her while sitting, but he didn’t bother to get up. He had a clear view of the front door and was certain she hadn’t left. She was embarrassed and avoiding him. Good, let her sweat.

  Someone mentioned Ophelia and cake. He turned his attention back to the conversation.

  “Yeah, where is the Birthday Girl?” Alana glanced around.

  Trace leaned toward Lizzy. “Why don’t you go find her?”

  Bright red colored her cheeks. She nodded and rose. “I’ll get her.” Once Lizzy was out of earshot, Trace spoke up. “So Ophelia went to school with us too, right? Why aren’t there any stories about her?”

  Alana glanced at Joel. She shrugged. “Ophelia was never much of a party goer.”

  But she likes to go to bars by herself, thought Trace.

  “She was a big fan of yours,” Joel grinned. “Followed you around li
ke a shadow.” Alana punched her husband’s shoulder. He winced and sagged to the side. “What?”

  Trace tensed. “She did?”

  Alana twirled her drink and smiled. “She had a little crush on you since that first day of junior year when that dumb jock pushed her aside while going up the stairs. She dropped all her books and you helped her pick them up. Remember?”

  He didn’t. He would have picked up a book for anyone; it was common curtsy, not an act of heroism. He cleared his throat. “So…what happened?”

  Alana rolled her eyes. “You became super popular and Ophelia didn’t.”

  Trace shrugged. “She could have asked me out.”

  Joel laughed. “Dude, she did ask you out. You turned her down flat in the middle of the lunch room.”

  That Lizzy chick had damn good timing. She picked that moment to rush back into the room. Her face flushed from giggles and she paused to catch her breath. “Guys, Ophelia’s drunk and she refuses to come into the living room.”

  A grin spread across Alana’s features. “About time that girl loosened up. Come on, I want pictures with the cake before she passes out.” The women made a beeline for the kitchen. Trace stood and followed.

  When he entered, Alana leaned halfway inside the refrigerator. It didn’t take long to spot Ophelia. She sat face-down on the kitchen table with a hand wrapped around the base of a whiskey bottle. Trace scoffed. “I think you’re too late.”

  “Oh crap.” Alana set the cake she pulled out of the fridge onto the counter and went to Ophelia’s side. She took the whiskey bottle and wrinkled her nose. “She never drinks anything stronger than beer. She’ll be out until tomorrow. I should get her to bed.”

  Trace wet his lips. “Let me take her home.”

  Alana’s brow rose.

  Trace sighed. “Do you have an extra room?”

  “No…”

  “She’s not going to sleep on the couch. I’ll take her back to her house and put her in bed.”