Blind Love Read Online Free

taken his anger out on her.
    He wouldn’t just need a bedroom downstairs. He’d need nurses, a housekeeper, a cook, and someone to grumble at. She had to hire people who’d bully him back or he’d walk all over them. Or worse. He could fire them, and she’d have to take care of him herself.
    To hell with that! His little tantrum this morning had sealed it for her. If he yelled at her again, he could fend for himself. She wasn’t hanging around Santa Barbara a minute longer than absolutely necessary.
    Her cell phone rang. She half expected it to be Father calling to rag on her some more. As if it was her fault he fell down the stairs. She wiped her face, blew her nose, and answered the phone.
    A smooth, deep voice said, “Catherine, this is Tony Donatelli. Cara said you needed help getting your house fixed up for your father.”
    “Yes, I do.”
    “The pilot just landed at the Santa Barbara airport, so I’ll see you soon.”
    Something was going right. If Tony Donatelli looked half as sexy as he sounded, she had her first bachelor for Blind Love .
    She drove to the airport and saw a man standing outside the terminal building, a duffel bag on his shoulder. Please, God, let that be Tony Donatelli. He wore faded jeans and a dark red T-shirt that hugged his muscled arms and torso. And here she was, with wrinkled slacks, a baggy shirt, no makeup, and her eyes swollen from crying. He was drop-dead gorgeous and she looked like a bag lady.
    Shoving big sunglasses on her face to cover her swollen eyes, Catherine walked toward him. “Tony?”
    “That’s me.” His deep, sexy voice sent tingles down her arms and settled in a pool of liquid heat low in her belly. She’d waited her entire life to meet a man like this, and she looked awful.
    “I’m Catherine Timmons. I hope you weren’t waiting long.”
    “No more than a minute.” His eyebrows knit. “Are you all right?”
    His apparent concern caused a wave of self-pity she couldn’t shake. “Sure, just great. My father’s in the hospital and someone else is handling my television show. The cook and housekeeper quit, my father is in a foul mood, and I get the pleasure of handling everything by myself.” She was babbling like an idiot.
    “Not quite,” Tony said gently. “I’m here.”
    She felt brittle and drained after the confrontation with her father. Willing herself to hang onto her composure, because falling apart in front of this man wasn’t an option, she walked out to the car with Tony.
    “Why don’t I drive and you navigate?” said Tony.
    “Afraid I’ll wrap you around a telephone pole or something?”
    “Or something,” Tony said, taking the keys from her shaking hand. She had a tear streak down her cheek. Poor girl needed more than a carpenter. Cara was right. Catherine needed a friend.
    He slid behind the wheel and glanced at the woman sitting beside him. She was a mess, wearing baggy, wrinkled clothes. She had her hair pulled back, but it was coming out of the clasp. Big sunglasses perched on a freckled nose hid most of her face. Cara said her friend was a short redhead, so he’d expected a well-dressed, well-groomed socialite, a short Grace Kelly with red hair. This frumpy girl didn’t fit the image. Not even close.
    He’d never been especially fond of redheads, but he didn’t come here to date her. He’d come to work on her house.
    Following her directions, Tony drove into the hills. Minutes later, she pushed a button on the visor and big iron gates swung open. The long, private drive spiraled around the hill, ending at the mesa on top. Impressive. The house wasn’t as big as Cara’s mansion, but it was a whole lot bigger than anything he’d ever lived in, and the view was unbelievable. The Pacific Ocean glittered in the morning sunshine, and the city spread out below him like something out of a movie. “Awesome view.”
    “Yes, it is.”
    The interior of the Spanish-style house was more spectacular than the outside, with polished