If she couldn’t quiet her nerves, she could at least concentrate on food.

Her theory on the dinner menu was that the guys would need absorbers. It was the first night out, so men being men, they were likely to drink. She’d thumbed through her recipes, looking for food that was easy on the stomach, not too heavy, and settled on pasta puttanesca. The wine choice was still a question, but she’d about decided on a Montenegro.

Ivan had given her a separate budget for the dinner wines. He’d been stingy, but she knew her wines and how to stretch a dollar. The reds from Provence were predictably good…

The galley door suddenly slid open. She must have jumped five feet, even though she could have sworn she’d completely calmed down.

“I know. You’ve got a rule about intruders in your galley. But I was hoping you might have a bandage.”

Harm stood there with a hand over his neck where she could see blood between his fingers.

“What on earth did you do? Get in here!” Men. Such idiots. She pulled open a drawer, grabbed a clean white towel, then pushed his hand away when he failed to remove it fast enough. That close to him, her hormones gave an instantaneous buck, which she tried to ignore. “Who taught you to shave? Attila the Hun? These days we use razors instead of axes.”

“I just figured I’d try to look more civilized before dinner. But it seems I packed an old razor because the blade sure seemed dead.”

“You think?” There were no chairs in the galley, just a stool wedged under the counter-which she pulled out and motioned him to sit in. Impossible for her to get a good look at his neck if she was stuck balancing up on tiptoes.

“It’s nothing,” he said. “I just couldn’t stop the bleeding.”

She edged between his legs, took a good look at the cut, then reached above his head for the first-aid kit. “I know it’s nothing. But you’re still getting antiseptic, and yeah, a bandage. Did the blade have rust on it?”