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  “Hey, lover.” The woman greeted Kane with a kiss.

  “Leon?” Hunter asked, not bothering to hide his impatience.

  “He’s taking a class for beginner doms,” Kane said. “He’s down in the dungeon now.” Kane glanced at his watch. “His class finishes in about half an hour.”

  “Can I watch?”

  “Be my guest.”

  Hunter waited for a beer before wandering over to join the crowd around the overhead viewpoint. His first glance down into the dungeon made him stiffen. Leon had his hands on another man. Jealousy jolted him until he realized Leon wore tight, black leather trousers, and he didn’t have a hint of an erection. But the tension didn’t leave Hunter until he caught a glimpse of Leon’s face. Harsh, his expression held not an ounce of humor. As Leon spoke to the men and women down in the dungeon with him, he remained dark and serious. Leon was once again the abrupt, taciturn man he’d first met.

  Hunter continued to watch while his mind traveled completely different curves. It was possible the Auckland coach had done as Kane suggested and used an old game plan. As Kane had pointed out, it was easy enough for him to check.

  Below, Leon pulled out a flogger. A shudder worked through Hunter, memories flooding him of how the flogger felt against his skin. The sensations. The sex. His mind continued to wander, through the good and the bad, while his gaze remained locked on Leon. He didn’t crack a smile the entire time.

  The scene finally ended, and after a brief discussion, the students took care of the sub while Leon left the dungeon. Hunter ignored the curiosity from the surrounding people and went to meet him.

  Leon came to an abrupt halt when he saw him.

  “Hunter.” Leon’s voice emerged in a soft rasp.

  “In the flesh. Can we talk?”

  “Where?” Leon noticed intense scrutiny from the clientele. The whispers. “Not here.” He grasped Hunter’s arm, then released it abruptly.

  “Your place?”

  “Let’s go.” Leon placed an arm around Hunter’s shoulders and ushered him toward Kane at the bar. “We’re going to my place.”

  “You owe me for this,” Kane said.

  “A week of management,” Leon tossed over his shoulder as he hustled Hunter to the door.

  “Aren’t you going to put on a shirt?” Hunter asked, snapped from his sense of rightness when he caught an older man ogling Leon. The flash of jealousy still took him by surprise because he’d thought the last couple of weeks had killed his feelings dead. Not so. “That man better stop his gawking or I’ll flatten his nose.”

  “Down boy. I’m not interested in him. My car is this way.” Leon towed him around the corner of the club.

  “People are staring.”

  “Let them.” Leon halted by a black car and clicked a remote. The car chirped and unlocked, and they parted to climb inside the vehicle.

  Neither spoke much during the drive to Leon’s house. They entered the house together, a photographer snapping their photo and shooting questions after them. Neither man paid any attention. Inside, they stared at each other.

  “Are we all right?” Leon asked hoarsely.

  “I’m willing to listen.”

  Leon expression turned serious. “I swear I never spoke to our head coach about the set-pieces I helped you learn, and I never saw your full game plan. I didn’t realize he knew most of your team plays until halfway through the first half because I didn’t go to the final training session. No one knows I helped you learn your set-pieces. No one except Kane, and I’d trust him with my life.”

  Hunter would need to be blind to miss the clear anguish in Leon, the same torment he himself had felt when he’d thought Leon had deceived him.

  Leon studied him, an expression of hope shifting his face from the distant one he’d worn in the club. He took two steps toward Hunter. “Do you believe me? I can’t be with you without having your trust.”

  Hunter sighed. “I believe you.” Even without watching the footage of the match Kane mentioned, the distress in Leon’s eyes bore mute testimony to his feelings. Time would help his hurt fade to a manageable level, but the thought of giving up rugby—damn that would nag like a sore tooth. “I’ll never play rugby again. No one believes in my innocence.”

  “I know.” Leon’s shoulders slumped at the admission. “I’m sorry, Hunter. So sorry. Can I offer you a whisky to drown your sorrows? We can get shit-faced together.”

  “A drink sounds good.” He paused. “I’m not sure what to do next. Job prospects are pretty slim. No one wants to hire a cheat.”

  “You didn’t do anything wrong.” Leon sloshed whisky into two glasses and handed one to him. “Move over here to Melbourne and live with me. Kane wants someone to help him manage the club.”

  “You don’t have to coddle me.” Maybe he should move to Australia. He could probably get a laboring job with a builder—as long as the builder was a Melbourne fan.

  “For God’s sake. Be honest, Hunter. At least to yourself.” Leon’s harsh voice cut through his pity party. “You wouldn’t have played rugby for much longer anyway. If you want you could coach kids’ teams and work up to full-time coaching. Any team would be lucky to have you. Or take up refereeing. Dammit, this isn’t the end for you. You’re talented and intelligent. You can do anything you want.”

  Hunter winced at the truth simmering beneath Leon’s passionate words. All true. Another injury would have ended his rugby career.

  “Hunter, I’m serious. I wouldn’t make the offer if I didn’t mean it. I want to make a commitment to you. Kane is serious about his job offer too.”

  “Maybe.” Hunter hesitated and glanced around the lounge at the photos, awards and mementos of holidays. It was full of memories. “You and Jason lived here.”

  “So we’ll move. Live somewhere else. I don’t care as long as things are okay between us. I’ve been thinking about selling anyway. I told you that. I’m ready to move on now.”

  Hunter fell silent and searched his heart.

  “Say something.”

  Hunter put down his glass and let a smile bloom. There was only one possible answer. “I’ve missed you.” Seconds later, he stood in Leon’s embrace, Leon’s arms wrapped tightly around him. Their lips clashed in a desperate kiss.

  “Open for me.” Leon’s command was hoarse with need. His tongue flickered along the seam of Hunter’s mouth.

  Unable to resist, Hunter obeyed, and Leon kissed him for a long time. Hunter’s heart soared, his urgent need for air the only reason he pulled away. Their ragged breaths intermingled, the atmosphere thick with erotic tension.

  “More.” Hunter stared as Leon’s harsh visage transformed slowly, the corners of his eyes crinkling and the edges of his sensual mouth kicking up in a sexy smile.

  Hunter’s breath caught at the sight of Leon’s full-out grin, and in that moment, he realized he was in the right place.

  He was with Leon.

  Nothing else mattered.

  “Let’s go to bed,” he said.

  Leon blinked. “I’m the one who calls the shots.”

  “Yes, sir.” Hunter hung his head in pretend shame. In reality it was to hide his amusement, because he’d noticed how Leon liked the sir tacked on the end of his replies.

  “Go into the bedroom and strip,” Leon ordered.

  This time Hunter couldn’t hide his glee.

  Leon rolled his eyes. “I can see I have a lot of work to do with you.”

  “Yes, sir.” Hunter snapped a crisp salute, and still grinning, he turned and swaggered toward the bedroom, taking care to twitch his butt. The faint groan that sounded behind him brought a wealth of satisfaction. Leon was right about his rugby prospects. He’d talk to Kane and think about volunteering to coach a school team. In time things would work out okay.

  He yanked off his shirt and tossed it on the floor.

  “Neatly!” Leon barked.

  Hunter’s grin widened, no doubts left. Their relationship was gonna be fun, and he
couldn’t wait to step into the future with Leon at his side.

  Epilogue

  Two months later, Exclusive Interview with the Melbourne Sports News Channel

  Hunter waited in a back room at the studio, nerves bounding around like rabbits inside his stomach. He and Leon had discussed the pros and cons of doing an interview. He was happy now. Settled. He’d volunteered to coach the rugby team at the school nearest the new place he’d purchased with Leon. After initial wariness the boys had accepted him, and his team was doing well in the local schoolboy rugby competition.

  Through Leon and Kane, he’d made new friends—people who didn’t judge him by things they heard in the press.

  But there was still gossip swirling, malicious rumors in Australia and across the Tasman in New Zealand.

  It was time to tell his side, to clear his name.

  “We’re ready for you, Hunter.” A young woman in her twenties, her hair a bright pink, stood in the doorway with a clipboard in her hands. “This way please.”

  The rabbit-nerves jumped up and down, compounding the tension gripping his shoulders as he followed her.

  John Blackwood, the sports reporter, sat in front of the camera. He wore a navy suit and a crisp white shirt with a navy-and-gold tie. He lifted his hand in welcome and gestured at the empty chair next to him. A small table bearing two glasses of water separated the two chairs.

  “Ten seconds,” the pink-haired woman said.

  Hunter dropped into the black leather chair, accepted a handshake from Blackwood and attempted to relax.

  “Hi, I’m John Blackwood and today, I’m talking to Hunter Blair, former first-five for the Auckland Cavaliers who was controversially dumped for leaking team secrets. Hunter, I’m pleased you’re here. Now tell me—did you spill secrets to the Melbourne assistant coach?”

  Hunter gritted his teeth, drew a sharp breath and willed himself to calmness. He’d known Blackwood wouldn’t go easy on him. “Good morning. No, I did not reveal the game plan to anyone.”

  “Yet, the coach of the Cavaliers insists you handed over team secrets.”

  “If you research previous matches played by teams coached by James Moore, you’ll see he has several game plans. Three to be exact. He tends to recycle these each season instead of trying something new. I believe the Melbourne coach did his research and realized this. He used James Moore’s predictability against him.”

  John Blackwood’s eyes narrowed. “But that doesn’t explain why you were seen with the Melbourne assistant coach before the allegations were made.”

  “The rugby world is a small one. I have friends who play for other opposition teams and I socialize with them too.”

  “Do you discuss rugby?”

  “Sometimes. Rugby is a big part of our lives, but we have other interests too. Surfing. Travel. Cooking.” Hunter allowed himself to smile into the camera.

  “Cooking?”

  “Yes, I enjoy cooking and trying new recipes. Most of us like to eat, and I experiment with menus and different foods to boost my energy levels.”

  Blackwood nodded. “I like to eat. Insiders say that James Moore had it in for you before he accused you of cheating. Is this true?”

  “We had a…personality conflict,” Hunter said carefully.

  “What sort of a conflict?”

  Damn it. He was innocent and he intended to cut through these lies and clear his name. “James Moore accused me of having an affair with his wife.”

  Blackwood blinked. “Did you?”

  Hunter grimaced. “No. It’s true that Madeline Moore made a pass at me, but I politely refused her offer.”

  “You’ve always been very protective of your private life. Are you dating?”

  “Yes,” Hunter said. “I’m in a committed relationship.”

  “Who is the lucky girl?”

  “I prefer not to say,” Hunter said and didn’t enlarge on his reply. Although he didn’t intend to hide his sexual preferences or Leon, he wanted privacy. Announcing their relationship on television would put them under a spotlight.

  “Do you want to return to rugby?”

  “Rugby is and always has been a huge part of my life. I love the game. At present, I’m coaching a schoolboy team, which is rewarding. I’m open to offers for next season,” Hunter added.

  “Thank you for talking to us today, Hunter.” John Blackwood looked into the camera. “I asked the Melbourne coach for his take on the cheating allegations. He refused a live interview, but he did give me a statement. He says he did what any coach would do—his homework. He also said that when he communicated his plans and plays to the team, Leon Fleming, his assistant coach was at the dentist having emergency dental work. Fleming didn’t take part in the final training session. The Melbourne coach categorically denies the cheating allegations.

  “After I spoke to him, I did my own research, and I have to agree with his conclusions. I don’t believe Hunter Blair is guilty of the charges leveled at him. I’m John Blackwood and this is Sports Live.”

  “Cue to commercial break,” Pink-hair said.

  “Thank you,” Hunter said, thrilled and a little emotional at the support.

  Blackwood stood and offered his hand to Hunter. “I said nothing less than the truth. Good luck for the future. I hope you do get a chance to play next season.”

  “Thank you again.” Stunned yet pleased at the public backing from the TV personality, Hunter retreated and followed Pink-hair from the studio.

  Hunter drove home to Leon in a daze. The interview had gone better than he’d hoped. He pulled up in the driveway, and Leon met him at the entrance to their house.

  Leon pulled him inside and closed the door before he drew Hunter in for a hug. “Great job. Talk radio is buzzing about the interview.”

  “Do you think someone will give me a second chance?”

  “You didn’t hear it from me, but there is a rumor going around our team that Melbourne might offer you a contract. I’m thinking other teams will offer for you too, now that John Blackwood has backed you publicly. People respect him.”

  Hunter pulled back to stare at Leon. “Really?”

  “Think you can take orders from me?”

  “Hell, yes.” Hunter grinned, recalling many pleasant episodes with Leon in charge. “I can’t think of anything I’d like more.”

  Leon made him happy, and now there was a chance he might still have a career. He wasn’t sure what his future held—rugby or something else—but it didn’t matter. With Leon at his side, Hunter relished the challenge.

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  Please turn the page for a glimpse of Curse Across Time, a time travel romance complete with a curse set in stone.

  Enjoy!

  Shelley

  Excerpt – Curse Across Time

  Copyright 2015 Shelley Munro

  “We’re never gonna break this fuckin’ curse,” Tarquin said, his voice full of despair. “We’ll remain stoned for eternity.”

  Marc watched the men and women through his misty vision. During the passing centuries, he’d become used to obscured sight and muffled hearing. Their inability to communicate with anyone except each other. He…

  No, by the gods. None of that was true. Despair sat on his shoulders, although he tried not to let Tarquin sense his mood.

  Entombed in stone, shipped to the new world by collectors and displayed as part of the statuary in a casino hotel, they could see and hear and watch the world pass them by while they remained stagnant, cursed and never aging.

  “It’s almost our anniversary,” he reminded Tarquin, his heart clenching at the depression he sensed in h
is friend.

  “And the twenty-four hours of freedom will go like all the others. We’ve tried everything. Hell, we were out of ideas after the first fifty years.”

  Every year on the anniversary of their stoning, they were released for twenty-four hours. Marc tried to remain positive, but it was difficult when nothing they did stopped the curse from drawing them back and imprisoning them until the next time.

  Tarquin remained silent, brooding in a way that had become commonplace over the centuries. Marc’s heart gave a hard wrench and tears stung his eyes. Frustration ate at him too, but there must be a reason they were allowed freedom, no matter how short the hours.

  “This is my fault,” Tarquin said.

  “Shut up.” Marc focused on the people milling about. A young couple came to a halt in front of them.

  “These two men look anatomically correct,” the petite blonde said.

  Her boyfriend snickered. “I’m bigger than them.”

  The blonde wrinkled her nose. “It’s a statue. They’re not a threat to your masculinity.”

  “It would’ve been nice if they’d let us put on our tunics first,” Tarquin said unexpectedly.

  “It could be worse. At least we’re not butt naked when the curse relaxes,” Marc said absently. “I’m going to the library to do some research, tap into the Internet, check our investments and bank accounts.”

  “What’s the point?” Tarquin’s tone was a verbal shrug.

  “We must have the ability to assimilate modern knowledge for a reason.”

  “It’s to torture us for daring to touch his wife,” Tarquin said. “The man holds a colossal grudge.”

  “If you don’t want to help me, go and play the tables. We’ll need more money once we break the curse. Or find a woman to fuck. That always cheers you up.” Marc tried to ignore the pain hammering him. If it weren’t for the curse he’d crumple like a piece of paper, the ache in his heart almost too much to bear. The years had done nothing to cure him of his craving, his love for Tarquin.

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