"Hands on the wheel!" Rodney screeched from where he was hanging on to the edge of the divider window. "I really don't need another broken ankle."

"Are you always this much fun?" the chauffeur asked, ostentatiously putting both hands on the wheel.

"This wasn't my idea," Rodney grumbled. "I wanted to just cancel the damn book tour when I got hurt."

"What kind of book did you write?"

Rodney moved so that he could see the chauffeur's handsome face in the rear-view mirror. "A gay sex manual," he said.

He almost pitched forward when the limousine pulled sharply to the side of the road and stopped. The driver's door opened and Rodney heard the sounds of shoes on asphalt. A second later, the back door opened and the chauffeur got in.

"I'm John," he said, tipping his cap off his head to reveal mussed dark hair.

"Uh, hi?" Rodney got the word out just before John's lips covered his in a scorching kiss, his hands going to either side of Rodney's face.

Five minutes later, John was riding Rodney like a champion with his hands braced on the top of the back seat.

"I...read...your...book," John stuttered out.

"Good," Rodney gasped.