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thoughts out of her mind and did a quick sanitize of the needles and thread, then turned to study the jagged edges of the wound.
    Graydon clenched his jaw and stared off into the distance, which she took as his affirmative. The first stitch was the hardest. To his credit, after an initial grimace, the admiral stayed still while she pulled the wound back together and closed it up with eight stitches. The results weren’t pretty, but they were practical.
    She wiped over the area again to clean it, easier now that there wasn’t fresh blood spilling out, and then stuck a piece of gauze over the patch, secured by a square of waterproof sealant.
    “All done.” She sat back and released a sigh of relief, not realizing how shallowly she’d been breathing the whole time she’d tended him. Partly because sliding a needle in and out of someone’s skin wasn’t exactly pleasant, but also because sitting and leaning so close to him was totally unsettling.
    “Okay, Lieutenant, your turn. Roll up that sleeve, let’s take a look at the damage.”
    Mae glanced down at her left hand, streaked with blood that had also soaked down the sleeve of her uniform. A throbbing started up in her forearm, closely followed by a burning ache spreading through the limb. She sucked in a breath and clenched her right fist, riding the wave of pain and hoping it’d fade fast.
    “Didn’t hurt until you thought about it, huh?” Graydon shot her a small smile as he gently took her left wrist and set her hand against his leg, just above his knee. Beneath her palm, warmth radiated through the material of his pants, while his thigh muscles were solid like sun-heated stone.
    The admiral unbuttoned his dress jacket and flipped it aside to pull a knife from his belt. Tugging at the collar of his shirt, he shot her an exasperated look.
    “Just for once, I’d love to be wearing something comfortable when I get myself into this type of situation.”
    With a smooth movement, he slid the knife into the sleeve of her flight jacket and sliced up to her elbow, revealing the cut along her forearm.
    “So, crashing in the middle of the wilderness with next to no supplies is a regular thing for you? Someone should have told me that before I took this job.” She swallowed as he started dabbing away the blood with disinfectant, sending prickly stings up her arm.
    He glanced up, his toffee gaze catching hers. “Would you have turned it down, then?”
    Not on my life. There were too many reason why taking this fake job was important, beyond the two of them sitting here right now. “I would have at least asked for a better wage.”
    He shot her a brief grin then returned his attention to her arm.
    “Doesn’t look too deep.” He bent his head, swapping the disinfectant wipe for a piece of gauze. “I may not have to return the favor of stitching you up after all.”
    He grabbed a few more pieces of gauze and covered the wound then secured the dressing by wrapping a long length of bandage firmly around her entire forearm.
    When he’d finished, he lifted her hand off his knee and squeezed her fingers. For a second he held onto her, staring at her with an intent expression. In the muted light cast by the sun, dappled through the surrounding forest, his brown eyes, rimmed in those dark lashes, had an almost golden hue to them. Her heart skipped a slow beat.
    And in the aftermath of the giddy moment, she wanted to slap some sense into herself. It was so not the time to be noticing things like how gorgeous his eyes were. There was every possibility the guy wasn’t human.
    Post-adrenaline reaction. Some uncalled-for auto response to all the stimulant pumping through her body. That’s what she’d blame it on.
    But Graydon was still holding her hand, studying her as though he expected something.
    “You’re doing great, Petros. Just keep that in mind, okay? I can categorically say you’re the best admiral’s assistant I’ve ever had.”
    Her heart still thumped