“Best not to insult the woman holding the tweezers.” She extracted another bit of gravel. “I have combined degrees in computer science and sociology from U. of I. and eleven years working at desk jobs I grew to hate. I thought about giving my father a coronary and applying for the police force, but I didn’t want to be a cop. I wanted to work for myself. Fast-forward... I bought Dove Investigations from my stepmother after my dad died.” No way was she telling him how much she’d overpaid for what she’d ended up with.

“Bought it?”

One piece of gravel had gone deep, and she worked as gently as she could. “The alternative was murdering her. I thought about it, but they can put you in prison for that.”

“Good point. Straight or gay?”

“Me or the Wicked Stepmother?”

“You.”

The gravel was out, and she dabbed the wound with antiseptic. “Straight. Unfortunately.”

“Why do you say that?”

She cleaned the tweezers and put them back in the kit. “In general—and there are exceptions—I like women more than men. They’re more interesting. More complicated. And they’re loyal. One of my biggest regrets is my lack of sexual attraction to members of my own sex.”

He smiled. “Sounds like you’ve had one too many bad boyfriends.”

“Says the man who’s dated most of Hollywood. What’s it like to go to the Oscars?”

“Boring as hell.” He wiggled his fingers, as if he were checking to make sure she hadn’t stolen one of them. “Current boyfriend?”

“Your cop pal is working on it, but no.”

“Cop pal?”

“Eric Vargas. Officer Hottie?”

Graham laughed. “You’re kidding, right? Not to be offensive, but”—the evil glow in his golden eyes indicated he intended to be very offensive—“isn’t he a little out of your league?”

She grinned. “You’d think so, right? But I’ve never had much trouble attracting good-looking guys.”

He frowned, not liking that his deliberate put-down hadn’t made her curl up in the corner and cry. “You have a theory about that?”

“I do.” She applied one of the large bandages to the heel of his hand. “They think I’m one of them, and that makes them comfortable around me. Until they figure out I’m using them. Not callously. I don’t believe in that. But, really, how can you take most straight men seriously?”

He cocked his head, as if he wasn’t hearing all that well. “You’re using them for...?”

“For—what do you think?”

She’d sacked him again, and he seemed temporarily at a loss. She loved her flippancy. He couldn’t see how short-lived her bed-hopping days had been or how lonely they’d made her feel.

“So you’re basically a man-eater?” Graham said.

“Oh, no. I’m not sexy enough.”