Page 2 of Entangled with the Enemy

Icatch Imogen in my arms, her soft curves pressing against me as we stand frozen in this unexpected embrace. My mind races, trying to process the fact that of all the people in this city, it had to be her—Imogen Lynch. What are the odds?

Damn that matchmaker.

I’m acutely aware of her warmth, the faint scent of her hair brushing against my chin, and the way her chest rises and falls with each breath. My hands linger on the small of her back, steadying her, but I can’t deny the electric current that seems to flow between us.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

Imogen’s eyes meet mine, and I see a flurry of emotions flickering across her expressive features—shock, uncertainty, and something else I can’t quite place. She nods slowly, but I can sense her instinct to bolt.

I can’t let her leave, not like this. Despite the tumultuous history between us, I’m strangely intrigued by the idea of spending time with her.

“If I let you go, do you promise not to run?” I ask in a teasing tone. “Let's have dinner and talk things through."

Her brow furrows as she considers my suggestion, and after a tense moment, she gives a resigned nod.

"Alright. One dinner," she agrees, her tone laced with apprehension.

We take our seats across from each other, an awkward silence stretching between us. I study her features, admiring the way her auburn waves frame her face and the striking green of her eyes. She's breathtaking in that fitted crimson dress.

"So..." I begin, breaking the silence. "This is unexpected."

A wry smile tugs at the corner of Imogen's mouth. "You could say that again. I'm still in shock."

"Believe me, the feeling is mutual," I chuckle. "But I have to admit, you look incredible tonight."

She arches an eyebrow at my frank appraisal, but I don't miss the way her cheeks flush ever so slightly at the compliment.

As we look at our menus, the waiter arrives, and we place our orders. I opt for the filet mignon, medium rare, with a side of roasted vegetables, while Imogen chooses the salmon with a lemon dill sauce.

Once the waiter leaves, I decide to dive right in. “So, I hear you’ve been making quite a name for yourself in the consulting world.”

She seems to relax a bit at the mention of her work. “I like to think so. We're a small firm, but we focus on helping other small businesses navigate financial pitfalls so they don't end up like, well..."

"Like Archer Systems," I finish for her, finally mentioning the elephant in the room. "Look, about that—"

But she waves a dismissive hand, cutting me off. "It's in the past," she says. "What matters now is how it will affect the future."

I nod. "Fair enough."

A playful smile dances across her luscious lips. "So tell me, how did a ruthless corporate raider end up on a blind date?"

"Rest assured, it wasn't my idea. A recently married business partner challenged me to find more balance in my life." Leaning back in my chair, I regard her with an amused smirk. "Apparently, being a successful CEO isn't enough these days. I need to have a full social calendar and a steady stream of romantic prospects to prove I'm living my best life."

Imogen arches an eyebrow, her lips quirking into a teasing grin. "So you're not a hopeless romantic, then?"

I place a hand over my heart in mock offense. "I'll have you know, I take matters of the heart very seriously."

Once the ice is broken, our banter flows effortlessly, the initial awkwardness melting away into a surprising ease. As our entrees arrive, I admire the way Imogen's eyes light up as she takes her first bite of the salmon, letting out an appreciative hum.

"This is divine," she murmurs, savoring the flavors. "You have to try some."

Before I can respond, she spears a piece with her fork and leans across the table, offering it to me. Our faces are mere inches apart, and my gaze drops to her full, inviting lips as I part my own, allowing her to feed me a small bite.

The flavors burst across my tongue—bright, tangy, and delicious. But it's the intimacy of the moment that has my heart racing. I hold her gaze as I slowly draw the fork from between my lips, letting my tongue linger against the tines just a beat too long.

Imogen's pupils dilate, her breath catching ever so slightly. The charged energy between us is palpable, crackling like a live wire.

"You're right," I murmur, my voice low and husky. "It's incredible."

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