Bittersweet Surrender
Bittersweet
Surrender
Other Novels by Diann Hunt
Be Sweet
For Better or For Worse
Hot Tropics and Cold Feet
RV There Yet?
Hot Flashes and Cold Cream
Bittersweet
Surrender
Diann Hunt
© 2011 by Diann Hunt
All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any meansâelectronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, scanning, or otherâexcept for brief quotations in critical reviews or articles, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
Published in Nashville, Tennessee, by Thomas Nelson. Thomas Nelson is a registered trademark of Thomas Nelson, Inc.
Thomas Nelson, Inc., titles may be purchased in bulk for educational, business, fund-raising, or sales promotional use. For information, please e-mail [email protected].
Scripture quotations are taken from the HOLY BIBLE: NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION
®
, NIV
®
. © 1973, 1978, 1984 by Biblica, Inc.⢠Used by permission from Zondervan. All rights reserved worldwide www.Zondervan.com.
Publisher's Note: This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author's imagination or used fictitiously. All characters are fictional, and any similarity to people living or dead is purely coincidental.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Hunt, Diann.
  Bittersweet surrender : a novel / Diann Hunt.
      p. cm.
  ISBN 978-1-4016-8720-5 (e-book)
 1. Health resorts--Fiction. 2. Chocolate--Fiction. 3. Indiana--Fiction. I. Title.
  PS3608.U573B58 2012
  813'.6--dc23
2011043182
Printed in the United States of America
11 12 13 14 15 â 6 5 4 3 2 1
In memory of two special people in my life
who went to be with Jesus in 2007:
my dad, Jesse Thomas Walker, and
my mother-in-law, Alice Catherine Hunt.
You taught me so much over the years.
I miss you both.
contents
Some days, chocolate was not enough.
Carly Westlake walked past the coffee bar set up in the waiting room of the Mocha Day Spa. Professionally decorated in warm browns, the room usually put her at ease.
Usually.
She smiled and greeted the customers waiting in the overstuffed sofas and chairs, her heels clacking softly against the hardwood as she edged down the hall past the treatment rooms. Chocolate scented the air from whipped cocoa baths, cocoa butter scrubs, and fondue wraps in process. The occasional murmur of techs and customers lifted with quiet music through the hallway.
It was everything she dreamed of for her business. She should've been content. The spa never lacked for customers. But where were the profits? Thankfully, now that spring was here and summer was just around the corner, things were looking up. People wanted to look nice and soft on the beaches. Still, she couldn't figure out why the spa wasn't further ahead financially. There had to be a better way to do business.
Carly hoped a cup of coffee would set things right with her world
.
Her receptionist, Amber, stopped her in the hallway. “Here, you'll love this.” She shoved a brochure into Carly's hand. “The printing company just dropped them off.”
Carly began to read.
“âAs they make their way to the resort in Spring Creek, tourists will drive through the brick-lined streets of this quaint Vermont town bordered by bed-and-breakfasts, cafes, coffee bars, and specialty shops. Then, just beyond the pebbled drive that splits a manicured lawn bursting with bright layered peonies, they will come upon a redbrick Victorian home. But don't let the cozy ambiance fool you. The Mocha Day Spa offers many of the treatments found only in big cities.'”
Whipping her brown hair over her shoulder, Carly sighed. “I want to go there.”
Amber laughed. “You are there. You own it.”
“Oh yeah.”
The phone rang and Amber ran back to her desk to answer it. “I'll put some brochures on the front table,” she called over her shoulder on her way.
Continuing on toward the kitchen, Carly passed a spa guest boasting impressive cleavage and pedicured toes that, no doubt, she'd never see on herself.
“Mornin',” the woman said. The chocolate scent of cocoa butter brushed the air as she strutted past in her thick terry robe and warm matching slippers. Confidence oozed from her slicked-up, tanned skin.
“Good morning,” Carly said, brushing past her. She knew she really shouldn't be so covetous. After all, women like her kept the spa in business.
“Wait. Aren't you the owner?”
Carly swiveled back around. “Yes.” She extended her hand. “Carly Westlake.”
Shiny black hair fanned across the woman's terry-covered shoulders. The brown-eyed beauty shoved her perfectly manicured hand into Carly's. “Well, aren't you just the cutest little ol' thing.”
They both knew Carly wasn't “little” by any stretch of the imagination.
“I'm Melissa Winters.” The woman lifted a beautiful little ol' smile. “May I ask you a question? Who's that handsome man who shares your office? Partner? Husband?”
A woman on a hunt if ever Carly had seen one. “No, we're not married. He does the accounting for the spa.”
At this the woman practically salivated for more, but that was all Carly offered. Scott Hammond was a great friend, and she wasn't at all sure she wanted this cougar to get her perfectly shaped claws into him.
“What did you say his name was?”
Definitely digging. “I didn't.”
Eyelashes fluttered with innocence as Melissa pulled her hand to her chest. “Oh.”
“His name is Scott Hammond.”
“Is Mr. Hammond, um, married to . . . anyone?” She studied the cherry-red nail on her index finger.
“His wife is deceased,” Carly said, irritation rising.
“Oh, that's too bad.”
It was obvious she didn't mean that at all.
“I started coming here after my husband left me.” She grunted. “I should have pampered myself long ago.” Her chin hiked.
A frequent guest.
“Yes, a woman needs to take care of herself. If she doesn't, no one will.”
“My thoughts exactly. That's why I'm here for the full-day package.”
Carly smiled. “Anyway, I'm sorry about your husband.”
Melissa waved a jeweled hand. “Oh, don't be. He thought he couldn't afford me before the divorce. Honey, he ain't seen nothing yet. But don't feel sorry for him, either. He's loaded.”
The laugh that ripped from the woman's mouth was downright frightening.
Carly needed coffee.
She needed chocolate.
She needed cleavage.
What's the matter with me? Just because Jake Mitchell and I are e-mailing one another doesn't mean I have to morph into Pamela Sue Andersonâor Melissa Winters, for that matter.
“Anyway, I do enjoy your spa. They don't have anything like this down south. They have spas, mind you, but not chocolate spas. Puts me right in the mood for summer.”
It put Carly in the mood for s'mores and a hearty round of “Kum Ba Ya.”
“So do you have your swimsuit for this year?” Melissa Winters tucked an ebony strand of hair behind her ear and glanced at her reflection in a window.
Carly thought she heard a
meow
in there somewhere. “Not yet.” Not that it mattered. She hadn't put on a swimsuit in years.
Melissa turned and cast a pitying glance at Carly.
“Well, I'm sure you'll find something. They have plenty of online shops for bigger sizes.” A quick glance at Carly's chest and thighs, and she tossed an I'm-glad-I'm-not-you smile. “See y'all later,” she said, moving on to her next beauty treatment.
A squeak lodged in Carly's throat as she watched the woman walk away. “Let me know the next time you need a facial. I'd be glad to fit you in,” Carly called out. If she could get a hold of that face just once . . . Well, there was a whole lot of ugly she could do.
She knew she should be ashamed, but without her coffee she was pretty much feeling guilt-free.
“Ladies and gentlemen, she lives.” Dressed in khakis and a blue button-down oxford, with rumpled blond hair that curled at the nape of his neck and soft blue eyes that could melt the hardest of hearts, Scott Hammond, best friend and accountant, walked up and matched her step for step.
“I haven't had coffee yet, just so you know,” Carly groused.
“Another Freddy Krueger morning?”
She shrugged. “Let me just say I'm glad it's Friday. But it's nothing a good cup of coffee and a facial can't cure.”
“Uh-oh.” He stuffed his hand into his pocket and pulled out a couple of dark-chocolate pieces. “Here you go.” He dangled them over Carly's head.
“Want me to bark like a seal and toot a couple of horns?”
Scott shook his head. “I've seen you do that. It's embarrassing, really.”
In spite of her bad mood, she laughed. He tossed her the candy, and she popped them into her mouth.
“Can we have a moment of silence?” She closed her eyes and savored the candy. The velvety smooth sweetness that spilled over her tongue momentarily set everything right with her world.
Aaahhhh . . .
When she opened her eyes, Scott's mouth was gaping as he stared at her.
“You think you know a person,” he said.
She shrugged. “How come you carry chocolate around when you don't eat it?” she asked as they continued down the hall.
“I carry them around for you.
Somebody
has to keep you happy.”
She stopped and stared at him. “I'm that bad?”
“Lizzie Borden comes to mind.”
