He gave her a look, one of those patient, half-smiling stares that usually preceded a dry refusal. "And where exactly would I be getting this fresh air? My garden?"
"Not just your garden," she said quickly. "Somewhere better."
"Better?" he asked with raised brows.
"Mm-hmm." She leaned forward, chin resting on her hand. "I was thinking… maybe a little drive."
"A drive." His tone was flat. "You?"
She blinked, feigning offense. "I may not have a car, but you do. And I happen to know you're an excellent driver."
"I was an excellent driver," he corrected dryly. "Forty years ago."
"Well, then, it's time to see if the magic's still there. Although I doubt it'll leave you."
He chuckled softly despite himself. "You truly have no sense of boundaries, do you?"
"None whatsoever," she said brightly. "Now come on. We'll take it slow. Just a short trip, I promise."
"Rachel, I'm not—" He stopped, shaking his head. "Where exactly are we going?"
