Anchor

by Jorrie Spencer

  He trusts me. That notion frightened her a little. That made it her responsibility to help him. But how?

  Certainly not by giving him an eyeful of her ladies’ Fruit of the Looms. Though he had definitely liked what he saw.

  Cool it. Get a grip.

  The sound of his rhythmic breathing reached her through the door. She chanced opening it a crack to peer at him. He was asleep already, one arm flung across his eyes as if shielding himself from something.

  He’d taken off her father’s sweatshirt. It now lay folded neatly on the arm of the sofa. His naked chest rose and fell, and his muscles still looked rock solid even in sleep.

  Gorgeous.

  What am I going to do with you, Julian Devlin?

  Zoe shut the door to the bedroom and locked it again. The real question was, what was he going to do with her?