Can't Stand the Heat [antikvár]

ONEIt was the sort of party where Miranda Wake Knew every guest by face or reputation, but had never spoken to any of them. At least, not in person. Of course, she'd received irate phone calls from several of the chefs present, after one of her less-than-glowing reviews, but that didn't really count as a formal introduction, she didn't think. Well, not enough to form the basis for polite cocktail party conversation, /mpolite conversation, maybe.Miranda caught herself smirking, and pulled her mouth back into its customary noncommittal line. It was harder than she expected. She blinked. The room and everyone in it wavered slightly."Why won't all of you no-talent hacks stand still?" she said, a little startled at how loud her own voice seemed in her ears. When had she lost volume control?Several people turned to stare, and Miranda tilted her chin up, daring them to say anything. She felt brittle and dry, like crumpled-up paperafter the day she'd had, it wouldn't take much of a spark to make her go up in flames.Someone jostled her elbow, and Miranda turned with a frown to find her editor, Claire Durand, staring at her. There was an incredulous look on Claire's normally serene