Clara Grant finally remembered. Chase Childs had been driving on the way back to the city. Didn't that mean he saw everything—her sleeping on Seth Quinn's lap, drooling and all?
'How mortifying!'
A wave of humiliation and anger washed over Clara Grant. She struggled fiercely, instinctively slapping the man's chest before pushing off him with both hands to sit up.
"So what if I fell asleep? Why did you let me sleep on your lap? What's wrong with you?"
Seth Quinn rubbed his chest, which ached a little where she had pushed off. But far from being annoyed, the smile on his face didn't fade. He propped himself up into a half-sitting position and said:
"Such a heartless woman. I was just trying to be nice and let you sleep more comfortably, but not only are you not moved, you even hit me. Doesn't your conscience bother you at all?"
Clara Grant rolled her eyes at him. "You just said I was heartless, so how could it possibly bother me? Are you an idiot?"
