My beach getaway was only supposed to include three things: relaxation, wine, and fun in the sun. Mack Houston, on the other hand, should have never- been involved. In no uncertain terms, he's the bane of my existence. The thorn in my side. The sexy Mr. Good-Time Guy who drives me up the wall and my work archnemesis for the past five years. He's the person I want to get stuck anywhere with-it's bad enough that I have to see him every day at work-and yet, because of a booking error (or curse of the universe, as I like to call it), I'm stuck in the same vacation rental with him for an . I'm going to end up in jail. One way or the other, disaster feels imminent.