Janette Kenny - Bound by the Italian's Contract

“Gladly,” she said as she set her portfolio beside her and dug inside it. “I plan to renovate Tregore Lodge inside and out. Foremost is establishing my alternative program for those who have never skied as well as for people who possess varying levels of aptitude on the slopes.”

“Your program is tiered then?” he asked.

“In its most basic form, as you’ll see by these,” she said, her confidence snapping into rapier-sharp focus as she handed him a copy of her carefully prepared prospectus.

He lounged back on the chair and thumbed through the papers, looking relaxed and in charge, the last thing about him that was still organic. But he’d changed.

Not in looks or physique. He was still disarmingly handsome. Still lean and fit. But he’d lost all trace of the flirtatious, teasing charmer she’d remembered so well and adopted the image of a serious businessman who detested wasting his time.

Or maybe he simply still wasn’t attracted to her. Maybe he believed if he was too friendly, he’d have a repeat of the teenager with the monstrous crush on the star athlete. If that was the case, he need not worry.

She had no desire in him beyond securing a business deal. “Regardless of one’s ability, I slant the program to the individual’s needs.”

“Just what I wanted to hear,” he said at last. “This is why I am interested in you.”

“I’m flattered,” she said, relieved he was referring to her program.

“As was intended,” he said with a bow of his head. “Do you recall my brother?”

“Julian? Yes, I do.” Quite well, in fact. “Years ago, he crashed often in your suite.”

She’d immediately liked the boisterous Italian who took great pleasure needling and teasing his champion older brother. And the world had gloried in the upstart’s daring exploits on the slopes, expecting Julian to set new world records, breaking those set by his father and Luciano despite his undisciplined ways.

But rumor had it Julian had kept his slot on the Italian team only because of his brother’s lead position. Whether that was true or not she never knew. One month after the World Cup, Julian had broken his neck in a tragic ski accident and ended up bound to a wheelchair for life.

“Julian is lucky to be alive,” she said and meant it.

He gave an abrupt nod, jaw snapping taut. “My brother doesn’t think so.”

“I’m not surprised. Paralysis is difficult for average patients to cope with. It tends to devastate top athletes.” And Julian had been a new star on the horizon. “Recurrent bouts of depression are understandable in cases such as his. That is why adaptive skiing works,” she said. “It boosts confidence both on and off the slopes, strengthens physical ability and agility, and provides a means to broaden social skills.”

“Unfortunately Julian has gained less than desirable results with alternative skiing and given up the effort,” he said. “Even more troubling, none of the therapists I’ve hired have a program as individualized as yours. He needs your help, Caprice. I believe he will respond to any challenge you put before him.”

She blinked, his effusive praise at odds with his earlier criticism of her plans for her lodge. “Wait a minute. If you believe my program is that beneficial, then why are you hesitant to finance the renovation of Tregore Lodge?”

“It is too small a facility to sustain a program of your scope.”

A fact she couldn’t deny. Still, the lodge was hers and she could expand in time if she wished. “It’s all I can manage.” All she could afford.

“Alone, perhaps.” He pushed to his feet and paced before the windows, his stride gracefully masculine. “You need to expand your scope. What you have envisioned has global appeal. Run with it.”

He couldn’t be serious. Just the idea of taking her program into the world market had her head spinning. She didn’t want to run something that huge.

“You’re talking incorporation and I want none of that,” she said.

“Why?”

“I want the lodge to remain controllable, and I can do that by keeping it family oriented,” she said.

He tapped one long finger on the side of his glass and studied her so long that dread lay like a lead ball in her stomach. “You want to police every aspect of your program. That’s why you balk at courting the après-ski set. The expansion would be too great and you would have to delegate, to trust others, and you can’t do that.”

She stiffened, disliking that he thought her that intractable. “My reputation is on the line here. I don’t want to slap my name on programs around the world, even if I personally train every therapist I hire. There is more to it than technique. The personal connection I strive to achieve with clients is what makes my program unique.”

“Are you sure you aren’t equating small with safe?” Luciano asked.

“I simply want to renovate my lodge into an alternative ski facility and launch my program,” she repeated. “That’s why I need a backer.”

He pushed to his feet and crossed to the bar. “You want my money and nothing more from me, and you don’t want to take a risk,” he said over the clink of glasses.

“Basically, yes,” she said. “Is that a problem?”

“It could be one for you.” He strode toward the sofa with two glasses of decadently red wine and handed one to her, his gaze hot on hers, probing, assessing. “Everything has risks to some degree.”

Like being here alone with him. Like courting his interest and financial support, which was all she wanted from him.

“I’m cautious, Luciano,” she said, taking the wine at last but hesitant to taste it.

Challenge glinted in his eyes. “Be bold.”

“I am.” To a point. “What’s your proposal?” she asked, mindful of the disastrous turn her life had taken the last time she’d acted boldly.

“Ignite my brother’s love of life again with your program. It is my hope that he will regain his desire to ski and develop his own line of adaptive equipment.”

All built under the la Duchi logo of course.

It was a logical sound business move that would surely make Luciano millions. That he was going to great lengths for his brother spoke volumes.

“I can’t promise that therapy will totally heal him,” she said honestly. “Julian must want my help as well.”

He sat on the sofa, so close to her she saw flecks of silver flare in his eyes. “Give him a reason to. In exchange for your tireless effort and expertise, I will completely finance the renovation of Tregore Lodge to your specifications. Anything you want. Do we have a deal?”

She shook her head, refusing to agree to any verbal agreement, no matter how tempting. “It can’t be that simple. What’s the catch?”

“No catch,” he said, his gaze riveted on hers, hot and intense. “I will finance the renovation and equipment for the launch of your adaptive ski program if you agree to come to my Alpine lodge and do all in your power to help Julian regain his life.”

“Why is this so important to you?”

“He’s my brother and has all but given up hope of having any normalcy of life,” he said. “Look around. There are far too many like him similarly afflicted. I have the means to give him that new start. You have the knowledge to reach and motivate him.”

She bit her lower lip, thinking. Her program would gain huge accolades if it helped Julian. But even if it didn’t, she liked him and wanted to help. And she did need to cinch this deal with Luciano.

“What you’re expecting of me is massive,” she said. “The chance for failure is great. You must realize that.”

His frown deepened but he gave an abrupt nod, troubled eyes meeting hers. And for a heartbeat she was lost in them. Lost in the emotional pain that flickered a nanosecond in his eyes before vanishing behind that same blank wall.