Loves Billionaires and Dogs: A Feel Good Romance Read online

  Copyright © 2020 by Gina Robinson

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Gina Robinson

  http://www.ginarobinson.com

  Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

  Cover Design: Jeff Robinson

  Cover Lettering: The County Flair

  Dog Artwork: Art by Larka

  Loves Billionaires and Dogs/Gina Robinson. — 1st ed.

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Epilogue

  Also by Gina Robinson

  Prologue

  My Biggest Favorite Mistake

  Shelby Hudson (Dedicated commitment-phobe throwing caution to the wind at exactly the wrong moment. Unplanned 3 a.m. weddings to complete strangers can be called spontaneous. But most people have another word for them.)

  Las Vegas, Nevada

  Little Discount Wedding Chapel

  You can't put a price on love. So why pay more? Best discount bouquets, ceremonies, and dress rentals in the city. No appointments necessary. Largest variety of wedding packages available anywhere. No license? No problem. Marry now, file your license later. We postdate ceremony details.

  Next they'd claim they made the world's best cup of coffee. Which, to be honest, I needed badly. Before a caffeine withdrawal headache kicked in. Seriously. Seattleites have genetically mutated to be unable to go more than two hours between caffeine hits. The last thing I remembered drinking had been an espresso martini. When was that? An hour ago? Two?

  My mind was a little fuzzy. I'd been gambling and drinking martinis all day. Okay, a lot fuzzy. I had a good buzz going. See? If you can recognize a buzz, you are not drunk. The martini had been delicious, but not strong enough. Of coffee. I can mainline caffeine.

  I leaned on my groom's arm as we waited in line to book our ceremony and get married. Four… Wait. I counted again. People kept shifting around on me. Should I use my fingers? Four. Five! Five happy couples in front of us.

  "What do you think, babe?" my groom (I was having a little trouble remembering his name) whispered, pointing to the wedding menu board over the booking desk. "Elvis wedding? Traditional? The Elvis costs more. But money is no object."

  I laughed. He was so funny! He was hysterical.

  "Traditional." I slapped his arm like he had to be joking and swayed into him in the process. Why would Elvis marry us? He wasn't even alive. He'd died before we'd even been born. I was pretty sure of that.

  "Careful." My groom grabbed my arm, steadying me as I clutched my new puppy to me.

  I blamed my shoes. I wasn't used these three-inch wedding heels. They weren't broken in. I'd just gotten them, along with my discount wedding dress and veil, at the adjacent bridal store. My mind was a little hazy on exactly how long ago. And what I'd done with my regular clothes. Time was an esoteric concept anyway. It could even stand still when it wanted to. Unlike my head, which was spinning.

  My guy was so generous. He had paid for everything—the dress, the shoes, the fifty-dollar entry fee to the chapel, the puppy. All with cash! I was marrying a billionaire! Or something. Was it a multimillionaire? I was going to be Mrs. Rich Somebody. Did I know his last name? Mrs. Rich Somebody-Hudson or Hudson-Rich Somebody, depending on how insistent he was that his name go first.

  It didn't matter. He was funny. And hot. So hot he was a fantasy come true. I was madly in love with him. Insta-love was really a thing. Since meeting him less than twelve hours ago, I was a true believer.

  The happy couple at the front of the line trotted off to the chapel. We moved up a spot. My heart started racing.

  My adorable new Corgi puppy mewled in my arms and looked up at me with great big puppy eyes. Who can resist puppy eyes?

  I held her up to my face and breathed her puppy breath. Where had puppy breath been my whole life?

  "You're the cutest little wedding bouquet ever." I nuzzled her muzzle. With that pink collar and bow around her neck, who could deny it?

  My heart swelled with love for her. All my maternal instincts kicked in. I'd never been a dog person before, not even a pet person, really. But I was in love with this tiny, helpless puppy that was totally dependent on me. I loved her with all the strength, and breadth, and depth my heart could manage.

  I swore deep in my soul that I would love and protect her until death do us part.

  She whimpered again. "Are you hungry, baby?" I cooed. I never cooed.

  "We'll eat after we're married." My groom waggled his eyebrows. Yeah. He was hungry for something else.

  "I meant the puppy." I nuzzled her again. "She's crying. She misses her mama. Poor baby. It's okay. I'm your new mama. I'm going to take good care of you." This cooing was becoming a habit already.

  I turned to the guy I was going to marry. "Maybe we should feed her first—"

  "She can wait." He propelled me forward another spot in line.

  I looked at my puppy's soon-to-be doggy daddy, aghast. My beer goggles, really my too-many-martini goggles, fell off. Just like that, I became stone-cold sober. The man beside me came into sharp focus. Prince Charming Hottie became a warty old frog right before my very eyes. I fell insta-out-of-love with him.

  What had I been thinking? This guy wasn't to my tastes at all. No. Seriously. In a crowded room, I would have looked right past him.

  A shiver slid up my back. My destiny was calling. And it wasn't here.

  "Next." The lady at the booking table waved the next couple up.

  "I have to pee," I said, thinking clearly for the first time since shortly after arriving in Vegas. Given how much I'd had to drink, having to pee wasn't an odd request.

  "All right," he said. He wasn't such a total jerk that he wanted his bride dancing and crossing her legs. "But make it quick. We're almost up." He pulled me into a kiss that nearly made me gag. He definitely did not have puppy breath. Ugh.

  I pulled away. "I'll be right back. Don't worry." I held up a finger. "Hold our place in line." Before he could reply, I took off with the puppy.

  I raced toward the ladies' room at the front of the building. I even pretended to turn into it. But the moment his back was turned, I just kept right on going. I raced out into the parking lot, running for my life with the puppy clutched tightly against me. She was with me now. I wasn't handing her over to him. Not on my life. Not even if I broke an ankle running in heels.

  Vegas never sleeps. At three in the morning, it was as busy as midafternoon. Maybe even busier. I wasn't the best judge. I couldn't exactly remember what
afternoons looked like around here.

  Neon lights flashed everywhere. There were all kinds of people out. In all flavors of flamboyancy and style. A bride running from a discount wedding chapel didn't appear to be a startling sight. No one even gave me a second glance. But I wasn't taking any chances.

  I pulled off my heels—they were slowing me down—and stripped off my veil. I paused at the first trash can I found, ready to stuff them in—I never litter, apparently. Not even under stress.

  A couple walked toward me, heading in the direction of the chapel I'd just fled. "You throwing those away?" The woman was wearing a short, skintight white Spandex dress and carrying a bouquet of roses. The bouquet cost twenty-nine ninety-nine at the street corner floral stand. Ask me how I knew. She swayed on her feet, drunk. And veil-less.

  "Heading to the wedding chapel?" I was real perceptive. I had at least a fifty percent chance of being right just given the direction they were headed.

  The guy with her nodded.

  "Great." I stuffed the shoes and veil into her arms. "With my compliments. Best of luck and congratulations. Have a long and happy life together."

  I didn't give that marriage a chance of making it out of Vegas. A shiver ran down my spine at how close I'd just come to making the same mistake.

  "Thanks." The bride-to-be looked at them with surprise, then stuck the comb of the veil in her hair.

  I didn't wait to see what the groom-to-be thought of the addition to her wedding attire. I hauled up my skirt—damn mermaid-style dresses—hugged my puppy, and started sprinting as if there were demons at my heels.

  Where was I sprinting to? No idea. Away. Anywhere away from here.

  My pulse was supercharged. I got a spurt of adrenaline. Where to go? What should I do? Where could I hide? How long until he noticed I was either passed out in the ladies' room or had bolted with the pup? How long until he came looking for me? That was key. In my favor, he was pretty hammered too.

  Even without the veil, I worried he'd recognize me. The puppy gave me away. How many runaway brides were there carrying a newly weaned Corgi puppy with a pink bow around her neck? He'd recognize her. There was no way I was letting him have her back. Or letting him catch us. Or letting her go.

  There were dozens of hotels and casinos along the Strip. Don't ask me what I was looking for. I passed the nearest ones by. Tears streamed down my cheeks. My mascara was running. My heart was pounding so fast that I thought it would thump right out of my chest. I needed puppy chow for my puppy. She didn't even have a name.

  A hotel came up, and I knew. I just knew—this was the one. Looking like the runaway Bride of Frankenstein, I dashed past the valets. Who, to their credit, didn't even raise an eyebrow. "Good morning, ma'am."

  I nodded to them and raced into the lobby. It was large and bright. And ringed with shops and restaurants of all kinds. Too public.

  It was irrational, but I didn't want to leave a paper trail or digital footprint of any kind. I kept thinking of all those police shows where they track people down by following their credit card charges. If my dumped groom really was a billionaire—and who knew for sure?—I didn't want him finding me because I bought a burrito and a pair of shorts at a hotel shop. My fortunes, and the casino, called. Darkness was my friend.

  I ran into the casino, losing myself in the crowd and the flashing neon and noisy video-game-like clatter of slot machines. The casino was crowded and anonymous. Full of people too drunk or too engrossed in their games to notice anything, or anyone, else. Full of eccentric characters that gave me camouflage. Hiding in the casino gave me a little breathing room to think.

  I took a deep breath. I had to get out of here. Call an Uber or something. Get out of Vegas. Get home. I didn't dare go back to my hotel. For one thing, my roomie and fellow bridesmaids would want the full story. The Hangover, Shelby-style. No way. No fricking way.

  You've never felt real paranoia until you've worried that even telling one trusted lifelong friend would lead to a stranger taking your puppy away.

  I didn't have any cash—

  "Miss?" Someone laid a gentle hand on my shoulder.

  I jumped. I mean, literally jumped like I was in the NBA. I'd been wrong. Someone had been watching me.

  I spun around and met the most startling pair of blue-violet eyes. They were almost ghostly. The man they belonged to was equally divine, drop-dead gorgeous to match the spectral nature of his eyes. Dark hair. Strong jaw. Broad shoulders.

  "Miss?" He looked at me from beneath hooded eyes full of concern. "Are you okay?" He pointed to the puppy in my arms. "You're both crying. Your puppy is scared. She's shaking."

  I nodded, unable to speak for a host of contradictory reasons.

  "May I?" He held his long-fingered hands out for the puppy.

  I hesitated and pulled her closer.

  "Don't worry. I'm not going to hurt her. Or steal her. I promise." His eyes reflected the neon around us. Under different circumstances, I could have gotten lost in them.

  He pointed to his eye. "Your mascara." He grabbed a cocktail napkin from a nearby table and handed it to me. "I think your puppy is hungry."

  I took the napkin and dabbed at my eyes. "I know. That's what I thought. I don't have much experience with puppies."

  I sagged. I was already a bad puppy mama. "I don't have any puppy food on me."

  "I can fix that." He pulled out his phone and sent a text. "May I?" He held out his hands for my puppy. "I have lots of experience with puppies."

  She was shaking terribly. I couldn't seem to calm her. His attitude was so calm and reassuring. Maybe I was making a fatal mistake, but I set her in his large hands.

  He was so gentle with her, calmly stroking her. He held her to his face and spoke to her in a low, soothing, nearly hypnotic voice. "It's all right, girl. It's okay. You have nothing to fear."

  Almost instantly, she stopped shaking.

  He glanced at me. "The flashing, all this noise, the neon, it's scaring her. It's not a natural environment for a puppy. She's overstimulated. What's her name?"

  "She doesn't have a name yet. I just got her."

  "Plenty of time for a name. It pays to wait for the right one to come to you. It took me three days to name my dog. But when it came to me, I knew it was right." He smiled at me.

  Whether he knew it or not, he was having the same calming effect on me as he was on my dog.

  He pulled his phone from his pocket again and read the screen. "Her food will be waiting for her at the front desk in about ten minutes."

  "That's fast."

  "I have a little clout in this gin joint." He grinned, and my heart did a backflip.

  He nodded toward the lobby. "Should we go wait for it?"

  I froze. "I can't be seen." My mouth went dry. My heart started racing again. "I have to get home."

  "Where are you staying?" he asked. "I'll call you a ride."

  "No. I mean home home. I have to get to the airport."

  "All right," he said as if it was the most reasonable request he'd heard all day. "I can arrange that. Do you have a flight?"

  "No." I sniffed. "No. Look. I can't be seen here. I have to get out of here."

  A look of concern crossed his face, but his demeanor remained calm. "Are you in danger? I can call security—"

  "No." I took a deep breath. "Not really. I just don't want my fiancé to find me." I dabbed the napkin at my eyes again. "My ex-fiancé. I just left him at the altar."

  Mr. Violet Blue Eyes' gaze skimmed my dress. "That explains the dress. I was hoping it wasn't your usual fashion choice. But you never know in this town."

  I almost smiled. Until I glanced down at it. What had I been thinking? This dress wasn't me, either. Just like my almost-groom.

  I had plenty of experience in the wedding industry. In my right mind, I never would have picked this strapless thing. I was more of a princess-style dress girl. I hitched the heart-shaped bodice up over my boobs before I had a wardrobe malfunction. All that runni
ng had shifted the goods. "I can't face him right now."

  Or ever. Preferably never.

  The pale blue-violet ghost eyes stared into mine, searching, but not judging. "All right. I get it. That's reasonable enough." He handed my puppy back and took my arm. "The puppy food will be here soon. Let's get this little girl out of this overstimulating environment."

  I nodded and hitched up my skirt again. Even walking in a mermaid dress was hard. Which was probably why mermaids swam.

  He looked down at my feet. "You're barefoot."

  "I had a need for speed. My shoes slowed me down. I gave them away to a couple who was on their way to their wedding."

  "High heels?"

  I nodded. "White satin. Slick bottoms. I should have put tape on the bottom of them. But I wasn't thinking clearly." About anything. "Four inches tall at least. Maybe higher. I didn't measure them."

  He stopped, bent down, and took my ankle in his hot, strong hand. I felt the jolt of his gentle touch all the way up my spine. "You're bleeding. Your little toe, I think. You need a bandage and some disinfectant. The streets of Vegas are dirty."

  "I think I stubbed my toe."

  He released my ankle and stood. "You did something. Lucky you didn't pick up a nail. Or a needle."

  I laughed. The way he said it was jokey, but tender.

  "Come on. Let's get you out of here and make your escape." He led me through the casino and paused at the edge of the lobby, holding me back with his hand. He pulled his phone out again, put it on camera, and held it up for me to see as he scanned the lobby and I kept out of sight. "Do you see him?"

  He was taking me seriously. I think I loved him for that alone. Whether this was just an adventure for him or not, I didn't care. "No."