Blind Love Page 2

  The nurse came in with a pain shot and soon Father’s eyes closed and his breathing deepened. While he slept, Catherine drove home. Fawn was right about one thing. He’d never get up and down the stairs at home. Either they had to find him a convalescent facility or she had to figure out a way to put a bedroom and bathroom downstairs for him. Even then, he’d need full-time nurses until he recovered.

  The big iron gates swung open, and Catherine drove up and around the hill to the top, to Father’s elegant two-story Spanish style mansion, part of the Timmons family estate.

  Fawn was a bleached blonde with perfect features and a figure to die for. She resembled countless other women who’d been in and out of this house since Catherine’s mother left.

  After introducing herself, Fawn held out a paint chart and pointed to chrome yellow and Chinese red. “What do you think about using this in the foyer, Catherine? I learned how to do that faux finish, and this is the perfect place for it. What about a yellow background with a little red sponged on top?”

  She had to be kidding. “Listen to me, Fawn—”

  She pointed to a patch of hot pink. “I picked out this color for the dining room.”

  Catherine held up her hand in the universal signal for stop. “Whose house is this?”

  “Walt’s, of course, but when we marry—”

  “Did he ask you to marry him?”

  Fawn’s perfect chin lifted a little. “Not yet, but he will. Every man I’ve ever been with has proposed to me.”

  Sure they had. The woman may be beautiful, but her two brain cells rattled around in an otherwise empty skull. “Don’t touch anything,” Catherine said slowly.

  Fawn’s chin came up. “Walt will let me do anything I want. He loves me.”

  Sure he did. “What happened? How did he fall?”

  “We…uh…were on our way upstairs and he had a dizzy spell.”

  Catherine cocked her head and stared her down. “Why did he have a dizzy spell? Had he been drinking?”

  “No, he took… The Viagra was his idea, not mine,” she said quickly. “I didn’t know it would make him dizzy or I wouldn’t have given it to him.”

  Given it to him? She gave him a prescription drug? “Did he know?”

  “Of course he did,” said Fawn, but her eyes shifted. The bimbo was lying, and Catherine was livid. Fawn had caused the fall as surely as if she’d pushed him down the stairs. Father was in the hospital, in pain, and Catherine had walked out on an important project, all because of this stupid woman. If she’d wanted a young, virile man, she should have looked elsewhere instead of giving a sixty-eight-year-old man a drug that wasn’t prescribed for him.

  Catherine carried her bag upstairs, and as she walked past her father’s bedroom, she glanced inside. Fawn had rearranged Father’s bedroom furniture. Pointing to the room, Catherine said, “Put everything back the way you found it, and I mean everything. I’ll go speak with the cook about dinner, and then we’re going to have a nice long talk.”

  “The cook quit yesterday and the maid the day before. The only one left is Sanchez.”

  With a deep sigh, Catherine asked, “Can you cook?”

  “Me?” squeaked Fawn.

  “Never mind. I’ll cook. You move furniture and clean up in here.”

  Fawn crossed her arms. “I don’t clean.”

  “If you think I’m going to clean up after you, think again. Listen to me.” Catherine couldn’t deal with this now, and she didn’t want this idiot in the house. “Put everything back the way it was and pack your things. You’re leaving.”

  Fawn stared her down, and what little patience Catherine had left melted away. She grabbed the phone and called the security company. “I need help evicting a woman from the estate.” Father could deal with her when he recovered.

  “I’m not leaving.”

  “Oh, yes you are. Pack your things and go back where you came from. Call in a couple months or so, after my father recovers. If he’ll even speak with you after what you did to him, you can ask if he wants you back.”

  Fawn’s face darkened and her eyes narrowed with rage. “I’ll tell him what you did.”

  “Fine. Tell him whatever you want. After he recovers.” Catherine practically spit the angry words. In six weeks, Father wouldn’t even remember her name.

  Fawn’s hands fisted by her side. How dare that bitch throw her out? Catherine acted like she’d pushed Walt down the stairs on purpose, when all she wanted to do was help him hold an erection long enough to make love to her. How was she to know it would make him dizzy?

  Just over three weeks ago, she and Walt spent their first night together at the Hilton, and then he asked her to come home with him. She never dreamed she’d be living in a mansion overlooking Santa Barbara and the Pacific Ocean. It was by far the nicest house she’d ever lived in, but it needed color. She’d planned to convince the old man to marry her, then put her stamp on this house and make it her own. She wanted to paint the walls something bright and cheerful and replace those ugly sculptures and stuffy tapestries with abstract paintings, but it wouldn’t happen now. His stupid daughter was forcing her to leave.

  She packed quickly, so Catherine didn’t get a good look at the things she put in her bags. By the time she finished packing, the guard with the security company had arrived.

  After the paramedics took Walt to the hospital last night, Fawn emptied his wallet. Seven hundred and fifty-two dollars wasn’t much, but she could hock the jewelry she’d taken from his bedroom. You’d think a rich man would have more money and jewelry in the house, but if he did, she couldn’t find it. She’d moved the furniture in the bedroom looking for a hidden safe, but she didn’t find one. There wasn’t one in the study, either. There had to be one somewhere in this house, but she wouldn’t find it now.

  Maybe she could come back in a few days and search again. Walt would be in the hospital for a few days, and she had the gate opener from his T-Bird in her purse. The only problem would be Sanchez, who lived on the property. She’d tried to get Walt to fire him like he’d fired the cook and maid, but Walt wouldn’t do it. He said Sanchez did his job and didn’t cause any trouble.

  The security car followed her down the hill and into Santa Barbara, and then the car turned around and drove back toward the hills.

  Fawn headed for the nearest pawn shop. Better get rid of the jewelry now, before Catherine the Bitch found it gone.

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  After the security people escorted Father’s bimbo off the property, Catherine tried to figure out where to put her father when he came home from the hospital. At one time, he’d talked about putting an elevator in the house, but he never had, and aside from the maid’s apartment, all the bedrooms were on the second floor. She could have someone carry him upstairs, but he’d be stuck up there for weeks and the nurses would be running up and down stairs taking care of him. He needed a bedroom on the main floor.

  She walked into the maid’s apartment. If the wall could be removed between the bedroom and sitting room, she could turn that into a bedroom for him. With the orange Formica walls in the dinky shower and old fixtures with dings and cigarette burns, the bathroom looked like it had been transplanted from an ancient gas station. It had to come out. A wheelchair wouldn’t fit through the door anyway.

  Catherine sighed deeply, wondering how she could get the work done before Father was released from the hospital. Cara’s husband owned a construction company. Maybe he had someone he could send down to do the renovations. She needed to speak with Cara about the show anyway.

  She punched in the phone number in Gig Harbor, Washington, and Cara answered. “Cat, it’s so nice to hear from you.”

  A baby cried in the background. “Can you hold on a minute while I get the baby?”

  “Sure.” Interesting that with all her wealth, Cara didn’t have a nanny for her baby boy. She and Nick took care of him themselves.

  A minute later, Cara came back on the line. “Max doesn’t like wet diapers.�
� She had a smile in her voice. “So what’s happening with you? Any new men in your life?”

  “God, no, and that’s the way I like it.”

  “You’ll change your mind when you find the right guy. So, how’s the job?”

  “That’s one reason for this call. I came up with an idea for a new television show, a reality show with a spin.” She explained the concept to Cara.

  Cara laughed. “I love it.”

  “There’s just one little problem. We need a place to film the show. I’d use my father’s house, but he’d never go along with it. It isn’t a good time anyway. He fell last night and broke his leg and hip.”

  “Oh, no!”

  “It’ll be a long time before he can use the stairs. I thought I could turn the maid’s apartment into a bedroom for him, but I don’t know any carpenters, and I hate hiring someone I don’t know.”

  “Nick’s cousin is at my estate. I’ll have my pilot fly him in tomorrow. Tony can handle whatever you want done. He did most of the finish work on my house, and it’s beautiful.”

  “Great. Tell him to let me know when to expect him, and I’ll pick him up at the airport.”

  Shifting gears, Catherine asked, “Cara, would you be interested in renting out your estate for a month?” Cara Andrews Donatelli was one of the richest woman in the world. Her family estate near San Francisco was fully staffed, but it sat empty most of the time, since Cara and Nick and their baby lived near his family in Gig Harbor.

  Silence from the other end told Catherine her friend was surprised by the request. “I’d have to clear it with the staff first.”

  Interesting that she’d ask her staff before making a decision, but Catherine understood. Although all the original art work had been moved to the museum, there were still a lot of valuable things on the estate.

  “I’d want everyone run through a security check, and I’d want you there to keep an eye on things.”

  “Absolutely. It won’t be filmed until June. Father will be chasing a new bimbo around the bed by then.”

  “You know, Tony might like to be the bachelor on your show. He’s thirty-four, lives with his mother, and you won’t find a better looking guy anywhere. You can interview him when he comes to remodel your house. If you don’t think he’s right for the show, that’s fine, but give him a shot at it. He’s a great guy, and he’s had lousy luck with women lately.”

  “Sure, okay.” It was a small concession. If Tony wasn’t right, she wouldn’t use him.

  “One of the women he dated was so obsessed with him, she wouldn’t leave him alone, so he’s spending a few months in California.”

  If this guy checked out, it could solve two problems. He could remodel those rooms, and he could find the love of his life on Blind Love.

  As if anyone could find love on a television show.

  Chapter Two

  Catherine visited her father again the next morning. He fussed at the nurse, and then he turned on Catherine. “Why in the hell can’t you get me out of this damn place?”

  “It isn’t my fault you were playing house with someone half your age. Maybe you should choose your playmates more wisely.”

  “Get the hell out of here,” he yelled.

  Without another word, she walked out the door. Stung by her father’s rebuke, she sat in her car, folded her arms over the wheel, and leaned her forehead on them, crying and willing her heart to stop pounding so hard. If he had anyone else to help him, she’d bail out right now.

  At his age, broken bones could take a long time to knit, and he’d broken his leg in three places. Add the surgery to replace his fractured hip joint, the discomfort of being in the hospital, and the frustration of not being able to do anything for himself, and he wasn’t a pleasant person to be around. Of course, Walt Timmons wasn’t often a pleasant person to be around. She should know. She’d grown up with him, and he’d often 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 cherry floors, wall coverings in muted shades, tapestries with intricate designs, and sculptures rich in detail. The house was formal and elegant, and he knew without asking that this wasn’t Catherine’s
doing.

  He left his bag in the kitchen while Catherine showed him the maid’s rooms. Walking through two dingy rooms and a tiny bathroom, he asked, “What do you want done in here?”

  “I want it to look as much like his bedroom upstairs as possible.”

  “Okay, let’s go look upstairs.”

  She’d taken off her sunglasses. Her bright green eyes were bloodshot and unadorned with makeup. Either she hadn’t put any on or she’d cried it all off. Freckles sprinkled her cute little nose. With a little effort, she could be a knockout, but she didn’t seem to care about her appearance. Maybe she was too upset about her father to care.

  Catherine led the way upstairs and groaned. “I forgot to put the furniture back.” She grabbed the armoire and pulled on it.

  “Hey, I’ll do that. Where does it go?”

  She pointed and he moved it.

  “The bed goes under the painting. He had some stupid woman in here, and she moved everything. I stopped her before she started painting.”

  He turned to look at her. “Painting what?”

  “She wanted to paint the foyer yellow and red, and the dining room hot pink. Does that sound like his style?”

  Tony chuckled. “She sounds almost as bad as this woman in Gig Harbor. Two dinner dates and she thought she owned me. Crazy woman even drugged my dog. That’s why Nick and Cara sent me to California. They wanted to get me out of town while the police looked for her. Nick was afraid she’d hurt my mother, but the cops have her locked up now.”

  “This woman my father brought home drugged him, which undoubtedly caused him to fall down the stairs and break his caboose. His leg twisted and broke in three places, and at his age, it might never be the same.” She looked up at Tony. “Is your dog all right?”

  “Yeah, he’s fine. I brought him with me to Cara’s estate. The staff there feeds him anything he wants, brushes him, and plays ball with him. He loves it.”