Devyn Quinn [Quinn - Biker Chic

Published by Mojocastle Press, LLC

Haymarket, Virginia

This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.

Biker Chic

ISBN: 978-1-60180-212-5

Copyright @ 2013 Devyn Quinn

Cover Art Copyright @ 2013 Vanessa Hawthorne

All rights reserved.

Excluding legitimate review sites and review publications, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.

Copying, scanning, uploading, selling and distribution of this book via the Internet or any other means without permission from the publisher is illegal, punishable by law and will be prosecuted.

Available online at:

http://www.mojocastle.com/

Also By Devyn Quinn

The Keepers of Eternity:

Echoes of Angels

Descent of Demons

Genesis Awry

Chapter One

Its amazing how easily our lives can be dismantled, torn down and put away in boxes , Melanie thought.

With a sigh, she smoothed out the wrinkles on one of Phil's shirts. Shed picked this one out. Was that why hed left it behind? He no longer wanted the things shed contributed to his life? So it seemed. She ran her hands over the fabric, enjoying the feel of the cotton under her palms. The shirt was one of her favorites, and it was easy to remember how her husband had looked wearing it. Absolutely fabulous. How well it had fit over his broad shoulders, its crisp style and bold color only serving to accentuate his sandy blond hair and deeply tanned skin. More than good-looking, Phillip Brooks was model handsome.

For eighteen years hed been hers.

But no longer.

Now they were separated, and it was breaking her heart. Her mouth twisted at the ease with which she recalled every detail of their recent arguments.

Trying not to think about the bitter scenes that had passed between them, her thoughts returned to the many boxes shed been packing lately. Interesting to think how boxes represented and contained peoples lives. Boxes carried pieces of yourself from place to place, to be rearranged to fit your life. She remembered the boxes shed packed when she moved out of her childhood home and into her first apartment with the man shed eventually marry. Young and desperate to escape her parents and the hate theyd developed for each other, moving in with Phil seemed heaven sent. In retrospect, she would come to believe shed jumped out of the frying pan and into the fire. It only took hindsight for her to figure it out.

Time passed, and more boxes had come into her life. Nine years ago, they'd moved into this house. Those boxes had been so full of happiness, hope and pride. Life was good for them, was getting better all the time. Phil had graduated, and his practice was really starting to take off. The struggle, it seemed, was all behind them. They were young, in love, and had a blooming future.

But her dreams were gone now, and in their place was cold, hard reality. Her lips pressed tighter together, resentment winding itself around her heart. Now the boxes are being packed again, but only one of us is leaving.

Thats what she was doing today. Boxing up the last few remnants of his life in theirnow herhouse. She supposed they'd have to sell it. The house had four big bedrooms, not to mention an exercise room with an attached sauna and Jacuzzi. It was too big for one person. Though theyd been trying to talk their way through a tentative reconciliation, they werent really getting very far. For two people whod been together for so long, they had little to say to each other. Married too young, theyd grown up and grown apart.

Phil was the one who had chosen to walk out. How easily he seemed to be adjusting to the transition. For her? It was sheer hell. Finito? For him, yes. Sometimes it seemed like she'd been blown to bits by a bomb, only her brain wasnt registering any pain. Deep down the hurt was there, but she was numb, absolutely numb. Sooner or later, the pain was going to hit. And when it did, shed feel every bit of it. Right now, she was only doing what she needed to do...functioning.

Boxes also reminded her of coffins. She wanted to crawl in one the day Phil had told her quite calmly over dinner that he was leaving her for another woman.

No , she thought. It isnt me who belongs in a coffin. It's Phil. Him and his twenty-one-year-old slut, Tammi.

Tammi with an 'I', not a 'Y'. Tammi with her pert, upturned nose and her perky tits, the nose and tits that Melanies plastic-surgeon hubby had constructed.

A forty-one-year-old man running after an ex-patient, she fumed, jealousy stabbing at her heart with its sharp, poisonous blade. That little girl is barely old enough to drive, much less know what love is. Its obscene for a man that old to be running around with a girl barely out of her teens.

An angry tear trickled down her cheek. She swiped it away with an impatient hand. At thirty-seven, she felt older than dirt. Useless. Worthless. For the thousandth time, she wondered what shed done wrong, why she hadnt been able to keep her man satisfied at home instead of having him wander off sniffing out younger pussy at work.

It wasnt as if she was fat or frumpy. Shed never had kids and had kept herself slim, trim and firm. She swam, played tennis at the country club...she worked to make herself attractive. Her shoulder-length blond hair was fashionably streaked and styled, her nails beautifully manicured. She wore her makeup in a subtle fashion, not painted onto her skin the way some women wore it. She believed that shed been the picture-perfect wife in every way. Supportive and loving; a lady in the parlor and a whore in the bedroom. What more had he wanted? How exciting could a marriage be after eighteen years?

Of course, she knew the answer. Phil wanted something fresh, new and exciting. Something out of the ordinary, a break from the same-old routine.

Hed even gone so far as to suggest a partner swap with some of their friends. When shed vetoed that idea, hed tried to wheedle her into a threesome with the man or woman of her choice. Again, shed held her ground and said no. Shed believed their sex life was fine.

Trouble was, Phil didnt. He liked sex. Anytime, anywhere. And when he couldnt get what he wanted at home, he went looking elsewhere. More than once, hed taken a lover. But hed never before given any indication that hed be willing to bust up their marriage.

Until Tammi came into his life.

And he walked out on me.

It wasnt the first time a marriage had grown stale, that partners had grown apart. It happened every day, and the divorce courts across the nation were clogged with similar sad stories. People simply got bored with each other. The heat had gonethe fire burned to ashes. Their marriage hadnt ended with a bang or a whimper, just a sad sigh.

If I had said yes, would he have stayed? Or would I have been delaying the inevitable? With hindsight, she realized that there had been something wrong with their marriage for a long time; that he had been spending less and less time at home with her. She wanted to believe that it really was the pressures of his work. In the back of her mind, though, she knew the bombshell was coming, that Phil didnt really love her anymore, didnt want her anymore. No, there were other women in his lifeand hed finally met the one for whom he wanted his freedom.

Unable to stop herself, Melanie picked up his shirt and pressed it to her face. Though freshly laundered, she thought she could smell his masculine scent trapped in its fibers, the lingering tang of his aftershave. Without thinking about it, she lifted her tank top over her head, let it drop to the floor, then slipped into his shirt. If she closed her eyes, she could almost imagine that Phil was pressing his body against hers.