Undressed by the Billionaire: The Ruthless Billionaire's Virgin / The Billionaire's Defiant Wife / The British Billionaire's Innocent Bride. Susanne James

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Undressed by the Billionaire: The Ruthless Billionaire's Virgin / The Billionaire's Defiant Wife / The British Billionaire's Innocent Bride - Susanne  James

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I could come up with,’ he said, as if booking fabulously expensive trips was nothing unusual for him.

      Savannah couldn’t stop smiling. ‘You have no idea what this will mean to them. I can’t remember the last time they went away—or even if they ever have been away from the farm.’

      ‘The farm?’

      ‘I live on a farm.’ She shook her head, full of excitement. ‘You must have seen my address on file?’

      ‘Lots of addresses have the word “farm” in them. It doesn’t mean a thing.’

      ‘Well, in this instance it means a great deal,’ she assured him, turning serious. Savannah’s voice had dropped and emotion hung like a curtain between them, a curtain Ethan swiftly brushed aside.

      ‘Well, I’m pleased I’ve made the appropriate arrangements.’

      ‘Oh, you have,’ Savannah said softly, thinking of all the times she’d wished she could have sent her exhausted parents away for a break, but she had never had the money to do so. Their grief when they’d lost their herd of dairy cows to disease had exacted a terrible toll, and they’d only survived it thanks to the support of the wonderful people who worked alongside them. Those same people would stand in for them now, allowing them to take the holiday they deserved.

      ‘You’ve no idea what you’ve done for them,’ Savannah assured Ethan.

      He brushed off her thanks, as Savannah had known he would. But because of his generosity she thought he deserved to be wholly in the picture, and so she told him how her parents had stood by and watched their whole herd being slaughtered—animals they’d known by name.

      ‘That must have cost you all dearly,’ he observed, looking at her closely. ‘And not just in financial terms.’

      It was a rare moment between them, but Ethan scarcely gave her a chance to enjoy it before switching back to practicalities. He treated emotion like an enemy that must be fought off at every turn, Savannah thought as Ethan told her that her bags would probably arrive at the palazzo before she did.

      ‘Just a minute,’ she said, interrupting him. ‘Did you say “the palazzo”?’ Of all the day’s surprises, this was the biggest. Ethan had just turned all her points of reference on their head. As far as Savannah was concerned, a palazzo was somewhere people who existed on another planet lived.

      ‘There are a lot of palazzos in Tuscany,’ Ethan explained, as if it were nothing, but as Savannah continued to stare incredulously at him he finally admitted, ‘Okay, so I’ve got a very nice place in Tuscany.’

      ‘You’re a very lucky man,’ she told him frankly.

      In the light of what Savannah had just told him about her parents’ hardships, he had no doubt that was true. At least they’d be able to put plenty of space between each other at the palazzo, he reminded himself thankfully.

      ‘Tell me about your palazzo.’

      Finding he was staring at her lips as she spoke, he turned away. ‘Later,’ he said, relieved to see his driver waiting exactly where he had asked him to, by the landing stage. He waved to the man as he cut the engines and allowed the powerboat to glide into shore. ‘We’ll disembark first, and then I’ll tell you more about it when we’re on my jet.’

      But she was back on the ground and in the back of a second limousine before Ethan turned to answer her questions.

      ‘The name of the palazzo?’ he resumed, leaning over from the front seat where he sat next to the driver. ‘The Palazzo dei Tramonti Dorati.’

      ‘That’s quite a name.’ Savannah laughed as she tried to say it, stumbling over the unfamiliar Italian words, acutely conscious as she did so that Ethan was watching her lips move.

      ‘Not bad,’ he said, congratulating her on her accent.

      ‘What does it mean?’ Savannah found that she badly wanted to hold Ethan’s attention.

      ‘It means “the Palace of the Golden Sunset”.’

      He hadn’t meant to enter into conversation with her, but how could he not when she glowed with pleasure at the smallest thing? It reminded him, of course, of how very young she was, but even so he couldn’t subdue the urge to tell her about a home he loved above all his others.

      ‘It sounds so romantic!’ she exclaimed, her eyes turning dreamy.

      ‘Yes, it’s a very old and very beautiful building.’ He knew he was being drawn in, but he would never forget his first sight of the palazzo, and he’d had no one to share it with before. ‘The towers glow rose-pink at sunset,’ he explained, though he left out the emotional angle, which had entailed a longing to own the ancient palazzo that had come from the depths of his soul.

      ‘The palazzo is located in a glorious valley blessed with sunlight, and the medieval village surrounding it is inhabited by wonderful people who appreciate the simple things in life.’ And who had taken him to their heart, he remembered with gratitude. As he tried to convey something of this passion to Savannah without becoming overly sentimental, she remained silent and alert, as if what he didn’t say told her everything she needed to know.

      She confirmed this, saying softly when he had finished, ‘You’re even luckier than I thought.’

      ‘Yes, well …’ He left the statement hanging, feeling he’d gone too far. He wasn’t a man to brag about his possessions, or even mention them.

      Ethan was full of surprises. His sensitivity was obvious once he started talking about the palazzo. He flew planes, he rode bikes, he drove powerboats, and he had a perfect command of the Italian language. The thought that he did everything well and was capable of such passion sent a frisson of arousal shimmering through her.

      Which she would put a stop to right away! Savannah’s sensible inner voice commanded. It was one thing to fantasise about sexual encounters with Ethan, but quite another to consider the reality of it when she was saving her virginity for some sensible, ‘steady Eddie’ type of bloke, and then only when they were married.

      ‘Are you too warm?’ Ethan asked, misreading the flush that rose to her cheeks as she moved restlessly on the seat. ‘I can easily adjust the temperature for you.’

      Savannah bit her lip to hide her smile.

      ‘What’s so funny?’ he demanded suspiciously.

      What was so funny? Ethan was the man most women had voted to go to bed with, and she was the woman most men had decided not to go to bed with—that was funny, wasn’t it?

      ‘I asked you a question, Savannah.’

      The easy atmosphere that had so briefly existed between them had suddenly gained an edge.

      ‘Is it my scars?’ he pressed. ‘Do they make you nervous?’

      Ethan had read her all wrong, Savannah realised. He was so far off the mark, she shook her head in shock. ‘Of course they don’t.’ It was no use, because Ethan wasn’t listening.

      ‘Is that why you’re

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