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Category: Romance/Fantasy
Description: Angelica Parkinson has gotten herself into quite a pickle. With one hastily uttered wish, she finds herself face to face with her destiny. The only problem is--the man of her dreams lives more than a hundred years in the future.
eBook Publisher: Echelon Press, 2003 2003
eBookwise Release Date: December 2005

28 Reader Ratings:

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Available eBook Formats: OEBFF Format (IMP) [13 KB]
Words: 1705
Reading time: 4-6 min.

Tires squealed, horns blared, and Jarrod Mitchell's heart lurched. "What the--" A sudden flash of light caught him off guard and he closed his eyes against the searing pain of it. When he finally refocused from the effects of the bright light, he noticed her.

The petite wide-eyed girl stood in the middle of New York City's busiest intersection, staring. Where had she come from? Jarrod hadn't taken his eyes off the road, not even for a second. She'd just appeared out of thin air. Impossible. Not even his long hours at the office with little sleep could conjure up something like this.

No, she'd replaced the damn light that could have killed any number of people. If he found out this was one of those big promotional stunts to advertise some club or show he'd sue the damn city.

Jarrod squeezed his eyes closed and counted to ten. When he opened them again, she stood in the same spot. Damn. He had the silliest notion that if he'd stayed at the office none of this would be happening. What made him think this Christmas would be any different from the last fifteen?

The wind caught her long hair and she began to sway with the force of winter in the city.

"Uh oh." Jarrod jumped out of his Mercedes and reached the girl just as she teetered and crumbled into a puddle on the pavement. A puddle of petticoats and crinoline.

Unsure of what to do, he unhooked the collar of her blouse and fanned her with his leather glove. Not that she wasn't cool enough. It was Christmas Eve and barely ten degrees. "Miss, are you all right?"

"Where am I? What happened? Am I dead?" Her long dark lashes fluttered.

The questions all rolled out at once and Jarrod smiled. "Well, from the sound of it, I'd say you're definitely not dead." He stared at her. He'd never looked into eyes so brown. Not a typical brown, a creamy brown with fleck of caramel and gold swirled into a mesmerizing pattern. More than the depth of color, he noticed a fear so intense it shook him.

"You fainted. Can you get up?" He took her hand and helped her to her feet. He noticed with a start that his first impression had been way off base. She was no girl; she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. Her slender waist curved up into a full--

A series of horn blasts pulled him from his appraisal and back to the problem at hand. When he looked down at her his heart stopped. Her head shot back and forth as she watched, terrified, as the cars of commuters and last minute shoppers sped by.

"What are all those horrible things?" She pointed toward his car, her hand shaking.

"That's a Mercedes. What did you think it was?" Five years of flunky work had led him to the car of his dreams. He'd bought it to attract a higher class of people. Silly, but he needed that approval.

"How should I know? I've never seen the likes of it before."

Jarrod stared at her. "Where are you from, anyway, Miss--"

I'm Angelica Parkinson, from New York City. My father is Martin Parkinson."

Jarrod tried to roll his chin back up off the ground. She had to be crazy, another Christmas lunatic. "You're kidding, right?" Martin Parkinson had been dead for years, at least a hundred. He turned and looked at the building across the street, Parkinson Tower, the finest in all of New York. He knew better than anyone. He'd spent the last five years working in it; he'd done everything from mail clerk to runner and finally junior partner in one of New York's largest and most prestigious law firms. He'd give his left arm to be part of that family, any family.

He pointed at the building across the street and watched her expression. "You mean that Martin Parkinson?" Some people had all the luck. Any child of that family had it all.

She nodded her head. "Of course not. My father's building is a two story brownstone." She slowly turned circles in the middle of the road, her eyes wide, and her lips trembling. "They're all so large."

"Hey, buddy, get you and your ballerina's butts out of the road. Some of us would like to be home for Christmas."

Angelica turned toward the burly cab driver. "I don't understand. Where am I?"

She sucked in a deep breath and Jarrod recognized it as an attempt at strength.

"You're in New York City."

This time he didn't have time to even try to catch her.