Loves Billionaires and Corgis: 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 Corgis/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

  Epilogue

  Prologue

  I'm a Believer

  Dex Rushford (Card-counting risk taker, people watcher, future billionaire realizing that, despite the lucky toss of a coin, the odds are not in his favor tonight.)

  Two Years Earlier

  Las Vegas, Nevada

  Then I saw her tear-stained face, runny mascara and all. My heart momentarily stopped. I was blinded by her beauty. And drawn to the adorable, but frightened, Corgi puppy she was carrying. Only a hardhearted douche could resist a puppy. But what the hell was I thinking? Weeping women weren't my thing. Not even puppy-loving weepers.

  Worse—she was barefoot in the middle of the Vegas night. In the middle of a casino. Quirky? Vulnerable? Also not top of my list. But she was hot. Her blond hair spilled over her shoulders, highlighted by flashing neon colors from the casino, making her appear almost magical.

  Her toes peeked out from beneath her full-length white wedding dress. She looked like a delicately beautiful ghost floating through the sea of gamblers. Lady Luck's ethereal spirit, maybe? If so, I wanted some of that. Touch me, baby.

  Her painted toenails glowed an awesome, eerie pink. Her lips were full and lush and painted a glossy pink that caught the light. Her eyes were wide.

  But it was that damn white dress that captivated me. Formfitting and strapless, hugging her curves, showing off a beautiful pair of breasts, but stiff enough that it threatened not to turn with her as she scanned the crowd. It was a wardrobe malfunction waiting to happen.

  Come on, dress. Make my night. I'm on a roll. Don't let my luck run out.

  Her dress flared out at the knees, tight enough around her thighs that it impeded her movement. She took quick baby steps, but still managed a seductive swing of her hips. Some women are born to walk in a way that turns a guy's head. And she was turning far too many.

  On the run from her groom? She kept looking over her shoulder as if she expected someone to suddenly materialize. Someone should tell her that if she were serious about hiding out, she should lose that dress. And I don't mean pulling a Lady Godiva. The white glow was a beacon.

  She wasn't wearing a veil. And the puppy she carried was so tiny that it looked like it had just been weaned from its mother. The noise from the video-game-like clatter of the slot machines was scaring it to the point of shaking. Poor little baby. I wasn't sure whether I meant the dog or the woman. Probably both. A damsel in distress was a turn-on.

  I watched her from the camouflage of the crowded casino. The right guy could help her. A bouncer. Casino security. An off-duty cop. Someone with the proper training, and authority, to step into the middle of a domestic situation.

  I was glad to play hero, but I performed better if I had time to use my strong suit—brains over brawn. It didn't look like Mr. IQ was what she needed right now. But if I didn't step in soon, some other guy would. There were half a dozen on the edge of their seats already poised to act.

  Without warning, she turned her gaze on me. Our eyes met.

  There was a break in my romantic continuum. If I'd been in a video game, my avatar would have just been laser-zapped into oblivion. My world shifted on its axis. I felt like I'd been kicked in the gut with a steel-toed stiletto. Every protective instinct in me kicked in.

  Right then and there, I became a believer in insta-love. Something I'd scoffed at for years. Hell, I laughed at falling in love on general principle. Falling in love makes no sense. Love at first sight—what the hell was that? A reaction to pleasing facial symmetry and a waist-to-hips ratio that signaled "good for breeding"? Evolution calling? Me, caveman? You, my woman.

  No thanks.

  Give me science and regular chemistry. Things that can be measured and quantified. Not the kind of instant chemistry that sends you slamming into the boards. Not something that wrenches your heart and twists your insides into knots. That sends your pulse into orbit.

  I swore I'd never fall prey to this kind of crap chemistry. It wasn't logical. It wasn't sensible. The woman hadn't done more than lock eyes with me.

  I'm a cynic. An observer. A science and data nerd. A dog-loving, outgoing introvert who values his solitude and isn't wild about sharing his life. A workaholic in pursuit of excellence and wealth. I'm not your basic caring, fall-in-love type of guy. To be honest, no woman had ever gotten beneath my skin before.

  But I'm not one to spit in fate's face, either. Or pass by an experiment. Anything in the name of science.

  My wallet was fat from the gaming tables. My buddy Justin was still gambling. I had time to satisfy my curiosity. Maybe buy her a drink. I bet myself that when she opened her mouth, she'd shatter this damn uncomfortable illusion. And I'd have to find a reason to disappear into the crowd.

  Our gazes unlocked. She turned away, like she was as stunned as I was by the electricity arcing through the air between us.

  She turned her back to me, denying that damn spark connecting us. As if she were locked in a Faraday cage, immune to the sparks flying.

  Soul mate? Siren song ready to bash me against the cliffs of life? I was about to find out.

  I gave up my seat at the slot machine and followed her, trying not to spook her. When I finally caught up with her, I couldn't catch her attention. She was lost in her own world.

  "Miss?" I laid a gentle hand on her shoulder, trying not to spook her further. Miss? Lame. But what did I call her? Ma'am? Shudder. The right kind of guy could have charmed her with "Hey, baby." But not me. Out of my lips, it would have been a slimy pickup line.

  She jumped and spun around. Up close, her eyes were truly captivating, a stunning shade of green that didn't help cure my case of instant infatuation any.

  "Miss? Are you okay?" I pointed to the puppy in her arms. "You're both crying. Your puppy is scared. She's shaking." Women like it when you show their dogs love. Ask me how I know.

  She nodded. Her eyes shone with gratitude.

  "May I?" I held my hands out for the puppy. I may not have been good with women, but I was an expert with dogs.

  She hesitated and pulled her puppy closer.

  Some guy had really spooked her—both the woman and the puppy.

  "Don't wo
rry. I'm not going to hurt her. Or steal her. I promise." I pointed to my eye. "Your mascara."

  Yeah, that's a way to win points. Point out her makeup flaws, buddy. What a charmer. Mr. Fix-It, that's me.

  I grabbed a cocktail napkin from a nearby table and handed it to her. "I think your puppy is hungry."

  She took the napkin and dabbed at her eyes. "I know. That's what I thought, too. I don't have much experience with puppies." She sagged. "I don't have any puppy food on me."

  Not only had she not ruined the illusion, she was sucking me in. She clearly loved that tiny puppy. Any woman who loves dogs is catnip to me.

  "I can fix that." I was on solid ground here, at least.

  I pulled out my phone and texted the front desk. I was a VIP guest here at the hotel. Had been for years. "May I?" I held out my hands for the puppy again. "I have plenty of experience with puppies."

  She hesitated, looked me in the eye again, and set the puppy in my hands with extreme gentleness. I wondered what had finally won her trust.

  I stroked the trembling puppy, trying to calm her. Finally, I held her to my face and spoke to her in a low, soothing voice. "It's all right, girl. It's okay. You have nothing to fear."

  Almost instantly, the dog stopped shaking. I still had the touch.

  I glanced at the woman. "The flashing, all this noise, 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."

  That explained her inexperience.

  "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." I smiled at her.

  I got a text back from the hotel. "Her food will be waiting for her at the front desk in about ten minutes."

  "That's fast." The woman looked impressed and sounded relieved.

  "I have a little clout in this gin joint." I nodded toward the lobby. "Should we go wait for it?"

  She froze. "I can't be seen. I have to get home."

  "Where are you staying?" I kicked myself for sounding like I was fishing for her contact info. It would be all too easy to scare this woman off. "I'll call you a ride."

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

  "All right." I bit back my disappointment. "I can arrange that. When's your flight? Who are you flying with? What terminal are you flying out of?"

  It didn't take a genius to see that she didn't look like she'd been on her way to the airport and decided on a whim to stop by the casino for a quick go at the slots.

  "No. No. I don't have a flight yet. Look. I can't be seen here. I have to get out of here." She looked so damned vulnerable and scared.

  "Are you in danger? I can call security—"

  "No." She grabbed my arm. "Not really. I don't think. Look, I just don't want my fiancé to find me." She dabbed the napkin at her eyes again. "My ex-fiancé. I just left him at the altar."

  "That explains the dress." I tried to sound light. "I was hoping it wasn't your usual fashion choice. You never know in this town."

  She cracked the barest of smiles and gave me a look that pleaded for understanding. "I can't face him right now."

  "All right. I get it. That's reasonable enough."

  There was a story there. But I'd be damned if I'd pry.

  I handed her puppy back to her and took her arm. "The puppy food will be here soon. Let's get this little girl out of this overstimulating environment."

  She nodded and hitched up her skirt.

  I looked down at her feet and stated the obvious. "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."

  Generous and practical. "High heels?" Can you imagine the hot hip sway she'd have in heels?

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

  On impulse, I stopped, bent down, and took her ankle in my hand. Her toes were bloody, but it was hard in this light to see exactly where the blood was coming from.

  I looked up at her. "You're bleeding. Your little toe, I think. You need a bandage and some disinfectant. The streets of Vegas are dirty." Understatement of the century.

  She shrugged. "I think I stubbed my toe. To be honest, I'm numb."

  I reluctantly released her ankle. Her leg was smooth, soft, and sexy as hell. I would have loved to run my hand up it. See what I could find beneath that dress.

  I stood. "You did something. Lucky you didn't pick up a nail. Or a needle."

  She laughed.

  It wasn't that funny. I was serious. "Come on. Let's get you out of here and make your escape." I led her through the casino.

  I paused at the edge of the lobby and pulled my phone out. Clearly a little spying was in order. I wasn't going to lead her into an ambush. I turned on the camera and held it up for her to check out as I scanned the lobby with it. "Do you see him?"

  "No."

  "Good. On my count, we'll make a break for that store there." I pointed. "Let's get you out of that dress and into something unidentifiable before you're recognized."

  "I—"

  "I know. You're worried your purchases will be traced if you use a credit card." I winked.

  I guessed she was having money problems as well. This was Vegas and she was running. Fortunately, I was loaded. It was easy enough to give her a way to save face. "I'm a big spy novel geek, too. Your disguise is on me."

  She opened her mouth to protest.

  I waved her reluctance away. "I just won big at the tables. I have cash to blow. Let me have my fun. Just be glad we don't have time to cut and color your hair. On three…one, two, three."

  I took her hand, feeling a clear zing of attraction that was heady as hell. I never wanted to let go. I raced us through the lobby and into the nearest clothing and souvenir store.

  I found myself so enchanted by this woman that I wanted to buy her more than a drink. I bought her a disguise—sunglasses, shorts, t-shirt, shoes, the only baseball hat they had. Bright pink with the word "bitch" embroidered in rhinestones. I bought her puppy a disguise and a carrier.

  I bought her escape. I bought her freedom from whomever she was running from.

  I called her a ride and led her safely to the limo as it pulled to a stop in front of the lobby doors. If only I could stop time. I was going to lose her into the night—

  Or was I? I wasn't a tech genius for nothing. I had ways of tracking people down.

  She hadn't volunteered her name, and I hadn't asked. For good reason. I was sure I could find her again. If I still wanted to in the morning.

  Her brow creased as she stared at the limo. "For me?"

  "Only the best for a runaway bride. The limo is paid for." As I helped her in, my generous nature got the better of me. A lavish gesture is never forgotten. First, and lasting, impressions. When I found her again…

  I stuffed a wad of hundred-dollar bills into the pocket of her purse. "Get yourself something to eat at the airport. And a flight home."

  Think big. Live big. Live the life you want. Generosity comes back to you.

  "Thank you." She paused, staring into my eyes. "Who are you? What's your name? When I get home, I want to repay you—"

  Being repaid would nullify my good deed. No way in hell. I smiled from deep inside my heart. "What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas."

  I closed the limo door and tapped on it to tell the driver to get going.

  As the limo pulled away, I tossed a coin in the air. Heads I see her again. Tails I lose. She's gone forever.

  I caught it and slapped it on my arm. My heart pounded as I took a look. Heads. I win.

  I always won. Lady Luck was the one woman I knew how to charm.

  I returned to the slots, a big, fat grin on my face. Wait until I told Justin about
this woman. He'd laugh in my face. Then he'd help me track her down just to see what a besotted fool I'd make of myself around her.

  I hit the big jackpot on my first push of the button. The machine lit up. All eyes around were on me. I hit the call button to get my payout.

  Before I could bask in the glow of my good luck, I looked up to see two guys near the door pointing at me. Beside them, a tall, angry, drunk guy looked my direction. And he didn't look like he wanted to congratulate me on my good fortune, either.

  Damn. The same douche from last night. Mountain man. Sore loser. I'd taken his slot machine after he left and almost immediately won a lucrative jackpot. He'd accused me of cheating him out of what was rightfully his.

  He headed toward me, which was when I realized he was wearing an ill-fitting tux with a boutonniere pinned to the lapel, looking suspiciously like a jilted groom.

  I had a bad feeling about this. But I stood my ground and kept my seat. I felt him as he arrived next to me. His presence loomed over me. I made him get my attention.

  "You," he growled. "They said you helped a woman in a wedding dress a little while ago. She was carrying a puppy. My puppy. I want them back. Where is she? Where did she go?"

  I took my time before I met his eye.

  Even drunk, he recognized me immediately. I saw it in his eyes. He was looking for a fight, and I'd just given him another reason.

  I shrugged. "How the hell would I know?"

  "She's my bride."

  "Congratulations. I hope you'll be very happy together." I turned back to my slot machine and stuffed the payout receipt in my pocket.

  He grabbed me and hauled me to my feet. He had a good four inches and fifty pounds on me. Plus a metric ton of pent-up rage.

  He growled. "I'm going to ask nicely one more time. Where is my woman?"

  "I have no fucking idea." I braced for a punch. He was just the kind of douche who would take a swing at an innocent stranger. He was clearly drunk and unsteady on his feet. I figured I could dodge him.