Can't Stand the Heat - Louisa Edwards [77]
“I so enjoyed your review of Appetite Vegas,” he said silkily. “You have quite a way with words.”
“Thank you,” she replied. It was usually better not to engage. Sometimes the incensed chef got bored if she didn’t provide any opposition.
“The part where you called the restaurant . . . what was it? Oh, yes. ‘A romper room of highbrow hackery.’ That was simply inspired. My publicist particularly enjoyed the passage that described me as a past-his-prime heartthrob with pretensions of culinary mastery, only interested in catering to the rich and tasteless.”
Miranda pressed her lips together. “Yes, Simon Woolf called the magazine to express his displeasure. I’m sorry if you didn’t like the review, but I gave my honest opinion.”
“Honest,” Devon scoffed. “Who gives a shit about your honest opinion? Certainly not your readers. All they care about is that you reliably skewer any chef who dares to make a success of himself.”
She shrugged. What could she say? It was no more than the truth, something that she’d thought herself many times in moments of discouragement. Still, it wasn’t pleasant to hear it out loud, hurled as an accusation by that too-perfect, multimillion-dollar mouth.
“It’s not my fault your ‘successful’ restaurants have lost the integrity they started out with.”
“And it’s not my fault you make your living by exposing your bitterness to the world. You need to get laid.”
Adam tuned back into the conversation just in time to catch that last salvo. The deep brown gaze flashed dark and angry for a moment, but Adam was the picture of calm and casual as he looped a friendly arm around Miranda’s neck.
“Now, kiddies, play nice. Or I’m going to have to separate you.”
“Don’t bother,” Devon sneered, slamming his untouched cocktail down on the bar. “I’m leaving. It’s a little too crowded in here tonight for me.” Pinpointing Adam with a narrow glare, he tossed out, “And don’t come sobbing to me when this one plays you for the idiot you are. I know all about your little bet, and trust me, brother, Miranda Wake will screw you as soon as look at you.”
“But not in the fun way. Is that what you’re saying?”
Miranda felt Adam’s tension in the rigidity of his arm across her shoulders. She wanted to jump in and tell them both off for talking about her as if she weren’t in the room, but part of her was too busy reveling in the feeling of leaning into Adam’s solid strength and letting him stand up for her. It was a novel experience. Not one she thought she could ever truly grow accustomed to, but it was fun for a change.
Devon snorted and turned on his heel. He strode out of the bar without a backward glance, leaving poor Christian shaking his head and mopping up the Ginger Lemonade that had sloshed from Devon’s glass.
“Thanks,” Miranda said. “I could’ve handled him on my own, but it was nice not to have to.”
“Anytime, sweetheart,” he replied with a lazy sideways smile. “Devon’s not a bad guy at heart but he can get kind of intense. And you really did a number on Sparks Las Vegas. Yowza.”
“It was appalling,” she protested, feeling defensive all over again. “The food was bad, the service was worse, and the whole restaurant was decorated like Ivana Trump’s boudoir.”
Adam snickered. “I’m not sure why he cares so much, anyway. It’s not like he cooked the food. He hasn’t run one of his own kitchens in years.” He shuddered theatrically. “I could never live like that.”
He still hadn’t removed his arm and Miranda found herself trusting more of her weight to him with every second that passed. The ginger cocktail was filling her with a warm, sleepy contentment despite the eardrum-piercing old-school punk music thrashing down from the stage across the room. It was as if Adam and Miranda were in their own world, a protected bubble that shielded them from harsh reality.
Until reality burst that bubble with a final clash of cymbals followed by a shrill note of microphone feedback.
Frankie’s rough Cockney accent filled the room.
“I don’t know about you lot, but I think it’s time for a change of pace. Adam, mate, you