Bittersweet Surrender Read online

  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 means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, scanning, or other—except 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 — 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

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-One

  Twenty-Two

  Twenty-Three

  Reading Group Guide

  Acknowledgments

  one

  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.

  “‘As 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 Anderson—or 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.”

  Carly considered this. She was flat-chested (technically not her fault), twenty-five pounds overweight (technically her fault), and she was hard to live with? She held out her hand for more candy. “I’m good with that.”

  When they arrived in the kitchen, Scott stuffed a few more chocolate kisses into a glass goblet.

  “It’s enough that you’re doing my taxes, Scott. You don’t have to stuff the candy jars too.”

  Scott laughed. “It gives me a little reprieve from the paperwork.”

  “How’s that going, by the way? Do I dare ask?” Carly cringed, knowing full well how she neglected book work. Keeping records and receipts were not her forte. She pulled a mug from the cabinet.

  “If you don’t want your mood to dive further south, we’d better save this discussion for later.”

  “That bad?” One look at his face made her gulp. That bad.

  “I’ll figure it out. Just give me some time. I’ve seen worse.”

  His expression told her he’d seen it happen once and the business had folded.

  “I’m sorry, Scott. I should have taken better care of things. And I should have told you sooner I wanted you to take over the tax preparation. I don’t know why I waited so long to ask for your help.”

  “Pride.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You try to handle everything yourself. Never want others to help you. Stubborn pride.”

  “I’ll argue with you after you get the taxes done. I can’t afford to hire someone else. Want some coffee?” She poured herself a cup.

  “No, I’m trying to cut back.”

  She turned to him and made a face. “Well, stop it.” Taking a sip from her mug, she watched as he walked over to the refrigerator and pulled out a small can of tomato juice.

  Carly pointed to it. “If you let our guests see that, it could be bad for business.”

  “My body is a temple and all that.” He winked.

  His comment brought her first pang of guilt for the morning. She had taken two swigs of coffee, though, so that might have been the reason. Once her senses sparked to life, she felt sure guilt over her morning behavior would hit full-on. It didn’t help her attitude that Scott was taking a healthy turn.

  They headed into their shared office and toward their individual desks. She sighed at the scatter of papers on her desk before glaring at the gleaming one across from her.

  Why was she being so hard on him? Scott hadn’t had things easy either.

  “I need to drop a few pounds, so I thought I’d start by making healthier eating choices.” Scott turned on his computer.

  “Why would you want to do that?”

  “Note the word ‘health’ in that sentence somewhere?”

  “Yeah, yeah, I heard you sneak it in. Don’t do it again. You’re just trying to make me feel guilty.”

  “Why would I do that? You look great. I’m the one with the middle-aged gut,” he said, patting his midsection.

  She immediately sucked in her stomach and was pretty sure it made her cheeks puff out.

  “You got a reunion coming up or something?” It was impossible to talk and hold her breath at the same time. Her stomach spilled into its usual place.

  “No reason. Just figured it was time.” He paused, looking at something on his desk. “Hey, do you know if we got that shipment of chocolate oil in yet?”

  “Came yesterday,” she said, studying him. It amazed her how he could brush people and conversations off and just throw himself into his work. No transition, just Boom, you’re done. Carly could see why Ivy used to complain about it. He could be irritating.

  “Do you have the invoice?”

  “It’s on your desk.” There was something suspicious going on, she could feel it. “You seeing someone?”

  He stopped shuffling through papers and gave her the stare.

  “There is no law against it, Scott.”

  “You women are all alike. You can’t stand to see a man single and happy.”

  “Is that what you are?”

  He paused. “I’m getting along.”

  She needed to tread easy. “Just remember you have some life yet to live.” A tinge of guilt ran through her. Life forged ahead, and they had to move on, but it was so hard to think about him with someone other than Ivy. It had been seven months since the accident, but it was still hard to talk about his wife—her best friend. Carly missed her so much.

  “I don’t need a woman to live. And correct me if I’m wrong here, but I don’t exactly see you joining the singles’ circuit either.”

  She could have snapped back with news of her online, very serious interest in Jake Mitchell, but she wasn’t sure she was ready for anyone to know that yet.

  “Oh, you know, it’s different when you’re divorced,” she said with lighthearted flare. Though she felt anything but lighthearted when she thought of Gary walking out on her.

  “Double standards, eh?”

  “Something like that.” She smiled and dug into the candy drawer of her desk, pulling out a couple pieces of chocolate. “Well, it�
��s a real challenge to lose weight at a chocolate spa.” She popped the sweet treats into her mouth.

  Scott shook his head. “Hey, you could always take Magnolia’s advice and make this a sugar-free chocolate spa instead.” He wiggled his eyebrows.

  This health-kick thing was going to get on her nerves. “My stepmother is a frustrated woman with nothing better to do than eat bean sprouts and criticize my unhealthy lifestyle—with a smile on her face, of course, dear,” she said, mimicking her stepmother.

  Spotting a rubber band on her desk, she picked it up and flipped it at him. It hit the target, and he grabbed his shoulder. “Ow.”

  “Serves you right.”

  “Is Magnolia still living in the rental apartment she shared with your dad?” he asked.

  “Yeah, but she’s talked about moving. I get the feeling they had some financial problems. Though I can’t imagine it. Dad was always great with money.” Carly still couldn’t believe that a heart attack had taken her dad from her only six months ago.

  “Maybe she brought a lot of debt into the marriage.” He pulled something from his drawer and laid it on the desk while he clicked a few keys on his computer.

  “Maybe.”

  “Too bad they didn’t keep one of their houses. I never understood their reasoning for moving into a rental.”

  “That makes two of us.”

  “Where do you think she’ll end up?” he asked.

  “Who knows? She’s such a social person.” Carly shuffled her papers around, sorting them into tidy stacks. “She’ll probably move in with one of her friends or something.”

  “Or something,” he said, stretching the rubber band, staring her straight through.

  She held her hands up. “Don’t even think about it.”

  He dropped the weapon.

  “What do you mean by that, anyway?” She walked over to the filing cabinet and thumbed through it.

  “Just that she could end up staying with almost . . . anyone,” he said.

  “If I played those words in reverse, would they tell me something?”

  “Just make sure she doesn’t guilt you into taking her in.”

  Her fingers stopped thumbing.

  “You didn’t,” he said.