Page 17 of Switch Back

I’m just a few tables away from her when I see the familiar blonde helmet of hair belonging to Regina Stewart stopping by Rosemary.

Regina Stewart isn’t a reporter. She’s a professional Davenport baiter. Her job is to push people into saying things and printing the quotes out of context. She works for a fundraising newsletter of Scott’s opponent in the gubernatorial race. If she’s talking to Rosemary, this can’t be good.

ROSEMARY

I wasn’t told to keep a low profile, but I knew that Mom and Dad—whoa that’s weird to call them that—didn’t want the news of who I was to come out until after the race. I appreciated that they didn’t want to use what happened to me and Hazel to earn sympathy votes. The Davenport for Washington campaign is all about the issues and not sensationalized drama to win the election.

“Excuse me, dear,” a nasally woman with blonde bouffant hair says as she walks up to me.

I step to the side to allow her to pass, but she just chortles and pulls out a recorder from her clutch.

“No, I’d like to speak to you.” She holds up her recording device in front of me.

“I’m sorry, but I think you have the wrong person.”

“You’re Rosemary Hardin, are you not?”

I look around for someone in the family that might know how to deal with this situation. I figured I was going to fly under the radar without any attention. Maybe get some shrimp and champagne to enjoy in my fancy dress. Talking to the press was not on my list.

“Rumors have been circling that you are Scott Davenport’s mistress.”

I recoil from the woman’s accusation. “I’m not.”

“My sources say—”

“Your sources are wrong. I’m not his mistress—I’m his daughter.” The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them.

The woman’s eyes widen and a Cheshire grin spreads across her face. There’s a sudden flash of light in front of me and I can’t see anything. A hand grabs mine and pulls me away from the barrage of questions that are being shouted at me.

It takes a moment to recognize that the hand belongs to Alex. He doesn’t say anything. I think that he’s about to lead me towards the front doors where I know there are some photographers stationed. We saw them when we came in. But instead, he leads me towards the elevators.

The doors open almost as soon as he pushes the button. Neither one of us says anything as we step onto the lift and the doors close.

“What the hell was that?” I snap at him.

He looks confused. “What are you talking about?”

“You set that woman up to ambush me.”

He shakes his head. “Why would I set you up for that situation, only to pull out before you could dig yourself in deeper?”

“I, um,” I sputter, unsure of how to answer that since he makes a good point.

“Rosemary, I swear to you. I didn’t set that up. I tried to get to you when I saw her corner you.”

“I told her who I am,” I whisper, realizing I’ve just let loose the giant cat out of the bag.

“I know.”

“My parents are going to hate me.” I drop my face in my hands.

Alex steps close and pulls me against him. His arms wrapping around me, making me feel so safe that I forget for a moment that I’m still mad at what he’s done. I sink against his firm chest and inhale his amazing scent.

I feel my temperature start to heat up and my lower belly flips with giddy anticipation at his closeness. Even my brain is starting to lose its will to fight.

“They could never hate you,” he whispers to me.

I look up at him. His lips are a breath away. I’m about to lean in and lose myself to the taste of him, when the elevator dings and the doors open. It’s like a bucket of cold water is poured over my head and I come to my senses.

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