Dreams Collide: Collide Series Book 2 Read online

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Dreams Collide

  The Collide Series

  Book Two

  Kristina Beck

  Copyright © 2017 – Kristina Beck

  All rights reserved.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechaical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  To Rich, Bob, Ron, Deanna, and Betsy

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Acknowledgments

  Other books by Kristina Beck

  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  Tina

  I yank my ironed outfit out of the closet, almost snapping the plastic hanger in half. So much for being calm and organized this morning. As I dart toward the bathroom door, my roommate walks out of the kitchen right into my path.

  “Watch out, Alexa! I slept late, and I have a meeting at a restaurant in the city, somewhere in Hell’s Kitchen. With my first client, no less. I don’t know if I’ll make it on time.”

  She swerves out of the way, almost dropping the coffee cup in her hand. “Slow down, crazy girl.” She pats down her dress to check if any coffee spilled on it. “I’d offer to drive you, but I don’t need to leave for another hour. Are you taking the one-twenty-eight bus?”

  I rip my socks and flannel pajama pants off. I’m probably the only woman in America who wears winter pajamas and socks to bed in the middle of August. Alexa keeps this apartment like an ice box. “I still can’t believe you drive into the city for some of your appointments. What a pain in the ass. Anyway, yes. I need to hurry to get the next one in twenty-five minutes.” I’m out of breath and half naked when I slam the bathroom door.

  In record time, I stand in front of Alexa with my shoes in hand. “Hey, does this outfit look good for a first meeting? I don’t want to look too stiff or too casual.”

  She sets her coffee cup on the kitchen table as she looks me up and down. “Actually, you look kinda sexy,” she says with a devilish smile.

  I hop around trying to put my black peep-toe heels on. I’m glad I got a pedicure a couple of days ago with lilac nail polish. “A black pencil skirt with a purple sleeveless shirt doesn’t necessarily scream sexy,” I reply between heavy breaths.

  She lifts her left eyebrow and smirks. “But with those high heels, you’re a professional with sex appeal.”

  I twist my head side to side. “How about this fishtail braid? I had to improvise since I didn’t have time to wash this head of hair of mine.” I run to the kitchen to grab my black Coach handbag and then my computer bag near the door. “Does it look greasy?”

  She looks to the ceiling. “Oh, would you stop worrying. You look gorgeous.” She opens the door. “Just go and kick some ass. You can tell me all about it when we go to the gym tonight.”

  “And you’re going to tell me why you got home so late last night,” I say over my shoulder as I rush out the door.

  “Boring business dinner and drinks. Nothing to tell. Now zip it—you’ll miss the bus. Good luck.”

  I make it to the stop just as the bus arrives. It’s packed, but I find an empty seat next to an old lady. I need to step over her since she apparently has no desire to move. This skirt doesn’t make it easy. I slump into my spot and take a deep breath, then purse my lips. She smells musty, like her wet clothes sat in a ball for days. That’s a major pet peeve of mine. I lean closer to the window and cover my nose with my hand. Please let there be no major traffic this morning.

  I pull my phone out of my bag and open the email my boss, Thomas, sent me yesterday, with the address of the restaurant. I looked up the place on the internet, but the website was down.

  I just started my job at Modern Web in Jersey City, New Jersey. During college, I became obsessed with advanced website and application design. My previous job gave me limited opportunities to share and implement my ideas, but I stayed there longer than I wanted to because the company paid for my graduate school. One day I looked in the mirror and said to myself, “You’re thirty-one years old. It’s time for a change.”

  When I was offered this job, I had a moment of clarity. Neither Dad nor my sister, Lisa, needed me anymore. I’d upheld my vow to take care of them after Mom’s accident. It was time to take care of myself. Moving to Hoboken, New Jersey, a couple months ago was the best decision ever. I should’ve done it years ago, but guilt always pulled me back.

  Alexa moved to Hoboken about a year ago for her job. She had a spare bedroom and thought it would be fun to be roommates. We’ve become close since Lisa married Alexa’s brother, James. Alexa is practically another sister to me.

  She drags me aroun
d everywhere. Every time we go out, she sees someone she knows. With her outgoing personality and good looks, it’s no wonder she has so many friends and a list of interested guys.

  She’s a successful sales representative for a big pharmaceutical company. Her territory is within the tristate area. Because of her, I know Hoboken and the city pretty well by now. Well, at least where the cool bars and good shopping sections are.

  I glance at my watch and see the time fly by. The bus is moving as slowly as a three-toed sloth. Why doesn’t each seat come with a gas pedal? The air conditioner needs a shot of caffeine itself. But maybe I’m sweating from my nerves. I lift my arm discreetly to make sure I used deodorant. I exhale in relief.

  With this new job, I’m a project manager. Basically, I get to run the show this time, implement my ideas, and manage my own team. The company guarantees to have a client’s new website up and running within six weeks, regardless of how complex it is. When Thomas mentioned this project, I was ecstatic. I imagined it as a five-star restaurant with fancy food and a cool atmosphere. Hell’s Kitchen is the place to be these days. I wondered if I’d be able to sample the food. Maybe the chef was famous. Maybe the chef was cute.

  Then Thomas said it’s a German restaurant with a traditional beer garden. Supposedly, it’s been open for six months now and is pretty successful. But that didn’t prevent the high-pitched noise of air streaming out of a balloon over my head. The image of Chevy Chase dancing in lederhosen in European Vacation sprang to mind. I know I have no right to be disappointed. This is my first real project, and I should be excited.

  I push the blue button and shimmy out of my seat, struggling with my bags. The old lady is still not willing to move. I hope she’s not dead. The bus stops short, and I slam against the pole, almost falling backward onto her lap. Nope, she’s not dead—she spasmed, and a whiff of alcohol and mustiness found its way up my nose. Gross.

  The doors open, and I filter out with the others. I step to the side to orient myself. The sun’s glaring, so I search in my bottomless handbag for my sunglasses. This bag was a present to myself when I got this job. I fell in love with it at a Coach outlet but didn’t notice it had no partitions inside. I need to buy one of those little lights to put in it so I can see where everything is.

  I toss my handbag over my shoulder and put my sunglasses on. According to the address in the email, I’m on the wrong end of the block. Double shit! Walking fast in these damn shoes is near impossible. I weave through people, and some stare at me like I’m a crackhead. What the hell? City people are freaks.

  Delicious aromas of freshly baked bread tease my nose as I speed-walk past a French café. The scent masks the constant city smells of stale urine and exhaust. Since I didn’t have the chance to eat breakfast or drink coffee, I’m ravenous and on my last nerve. What would happen if I snatched a croissant off someone’s plate? Breakfast is my favorite meal, but I’m hungry anytime. I love to eat. My fast metabolism allows me to consume what I want, when I want. Most females hate that about me, even though I do yoga and Pilates regularly. Alexa convinced me to sign up for a one-month trial at a gym down the street from our apartment. I’m up for anything new these days.

  The noise of trucks rumbling, horns honking, and police sirens shrieking distract me. Hoboken isn’t this loud. My watch says I have one minute. I need number 503. The restaurant should be across the street. I search for a sign with the name Hofbräuhaus. How the hell is that even pronounced? My eyes zoom in on the distinctive large blue sign.

  I approach a red traffic light with a crowd of people, most of them playing with their phones or drinking Starbucks. I shuffle from one foot to the other. The traffic light beeps, and the walking man appears. As I nudge slower people out of my way, my forehead begins to sweat.

  Two women pass me. One whispers to the other, and then they look at me and burst out laughing. I don’t get it. What’s the damn problem this morning? I touch my hair and forehead, thinking maybe a bird shit on me. There’s nothing. Whatever. I don’t have time to worry about this.

  I straighten my skirt, pull my braid over my shoulder, and check my necklace is straight. I exhale slowly, hoping my pulse will decrease and the beads of sweat will evaporate.

  I pull open the entrance door that has a strange large A on it. What does the A stand for? A for appetite? Well, mine is quite large right now. I shrug my shoulders as I walk into a massive room with high ceilings, archways, and traditional golden wood décor throughout. Carved wooden beams stand from ceiling to floor throughout the room. The tables represent a variety of shapes and can seat up to ten. They’re covered with checkered cream-and-red tablecloths. Matching curtains drape the windows. Large, old crystal chandeliers hang from the ceiling. Barstools with red leather seats line the long bar. The restaurant is much larger than it looks from the outside.

  The aroma of sautéed onions wafts from the kitchen, making my mouth water. Can I eat something during this meeting? Would that be rude?

  I’m startled by a man clearing his throat behind me. “Can I help you?” His voice is deep but smooth with a hint of a foreign accent.

  I love foreign accents.

  I turn around and find a tall, bulky man with a buzz cut. My first thought is a teddy bear. He’s dressed in black jeans and a snug white T-shirt that accentuates his broad shoulders and firm biceps. I assume the black, red, and gold flag on the T-shirt is a German flag, but what the hell do I know? Maybe I should’ve researched Germany last night instead of vegging on the couch, watching Places Unknown, my favorite travel show.

  I plaster a friendly smile on my face. “Good morning. I’m Tina Schmitt, with Modern Web. I have an appointment with Gerry—I mean Mr. Maier.” I scan the email again. “I hope I pronounced his last name correctly.”

  He looks at me long and hard with his eyebrows pushed together. He cocks his head to the side. “What are you doing?” he snickers.

  I look around. “What do you mean? I just told you I have an appointment. Is there a problem?” What is up with people this morning?

  He points to my face. I place my hand on my face and feel around. I still have my sunglasses on. What’s the big deal? I take them off and gasp as I see what I’m holding.

  Someone kill me now. How could I not have noticed?

  One of the lenses is missing.

  That explains the strange looks and laughter. This is beyond humiliating. I want to crawl under a table and never come back out.

  I shove my sunglasses into my bag. It’s so hard to look at him right now.

  Blood sizzles up my neck to my cheeks. Just suck it up and pretend it’s no big deal. Shrug it off and be professional. I roll my shoulders back. “Well, that was a great first impression.” I’m sure he’ll tell Mr. Maier this. “Let’s start over. I’m Tina Schmitt. Can you please tell me where I can find Mr. Maier?”

  His eyes widen for some reason, but he doesn’t respond right away. I wish I could wipe the crooked smirk off his gorgeous face as he looks me up and down. I’m embarrassed enough. It doesn’t help that he’s sexy as all hell. Very sexy. Why does he have to be so damn sexy? To top it off, he has a scar above his right eyebrow, which makes him look rugged. It doesn’t matter. He’s probably one of the dishwashers or a busboy. I’ll never see him again.

  He rubs his chin. “I’m Gerry Maier.”

  Son. Of. A. Bitch.

  My chin hits the ground. I believe one of the servers will need to help me put it back into place. Of course it’s him. Why can’t he be an old, fat man with a wart on his nose and a bushy unibrow?

  He reaches out his hand, and I embrace it with mine. It’s two times the size of mine. Warm and rough. We hold our shake a little longer than normal as we stare each other down. Awkward…but thrilling. Velvety tingles travel up my arm, making me think of soft bubbles of champagne bursting in my mouth. I pull away first, even though I like my hand in his. Where’s this coming from?

  I shuffle my computer bag to my right hand. “Well, that was the
best ice breaker I’ve ever heard of. I think I’ll try that with my next client.” I chuckle.

  He nods with his eyes still piercing mine.

  “I’m sorry I’m a minute late. My alarm didn’t go off this morning. I rushed into the city and wasn’t paying attention to my sunglasses. I’m usually very punctual.” Shut up, Tina!

  “You didn’t notice something was wrong when looking through the lens?”

  Wiseass. He puts his hand over his perfect smiling mouth to prevent himself from laughing. I should slap him upside the head. Even though I’d rather curl up on his lap like a cat and cuddle. Lack of food is surely screwing with my brain.

  I cock my hip. “As a matter of fact, I was too focused on finding my way here and didn’t notice a difference. Cut me some slack.”

  He holds his hands up. “Sorry, but you have to admit it’s funny. I’ve never seen a more beautiful pirate. Ahoy, matey.”

  He did not just say that.

  Once again, my mouth drops open. I’m not sure if I’m shocked by him saying I’m beautiful or ahoy, matey. I should be annoyed by both, but I can’t control myself. I burst out laughing. He joins in, and after a few seconds, I calm down and carefully dab at the light tears in my eyes. Now I probably look like a raccoon.

  I walk to a table behind me where a server polishes the salt and pepper shakers like his life depends on it. I’m sure he’s heard everything. “Would you mind if I left my computer bag on this chair?” The server nods and continues rubbing the shaker like it’s a magic lamp.

  I turn in Gerry’s direction. “I need to freshen up after this little escapade. Then we can officially start our meeting.”

  “I can take your bag. I have a table set up for us out in the beer garden. It’s still quiet since we don’t open for another hour. I hope it’s okay to be outside. It’s a nice morning and not too hot yet.”

  “Sure, that sounds great. Maybe not in the direct sunlight though, given the state of my sunglasses.”

  He flashes me that sexy smile again. My heart speeds up. I think I’m going to like this project.

  I hold out my bag but almost drop it when his hand touches mine. It feels too intimate but strangely normal. He’s just a hot guy touching me again. Though if he were an old man with a wart on his nose, I’d likely feel violated.