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“Miss David.”
Ziva looked up from her desk, where she was finishing some paperwork, to see the last sight she would ever have imagined she would see: Anthony DiNozzo, dressed smartly in a suit with his hair properly combed, standing in front of her desk, holding a bouquet of half a dozen pale pink roses. He gave a little mock bow and offered her the roses.
She didn’t budge, of course, not trusting his intentions. “What is this, Tony?”
“I’ve been really a jerk lately, and I wanted to make up to you.”
“You wish to apologize for being a jerk with flowers?”
He gave that impish grin that she alternately wanted to kiss or smack (more often, though, it was the latter). “And dinner.”
“Oh, I see.” She pushed her chair back to get a better look at him. “I know what you are up to, Mister DiNozzo, and you will not get away with it.”
Tony actually looked crestfallen. His shoulders slumped a little, and he lowered his eyes, though he was obviously trying not to show his disappointment. “All right, then.” He laid the bouquet down on her desk. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”
“Wait.” He stopped and turned, halfway to the elevator. She was standing up, smiling and pulling her coat on. “I did not say that I would not go to dinner with you.”
The impish grin was back as she picked up the flowers and headed towards him. “Really?”
She nodded, amused by how quickly his moods could change. “It couldn’t hurt, could it? Lead the way.”
“You might have told me that we were going to such a fancy restaurant. I could have gone home and changed my clothes.”
“But that would have given you more time to change your mind.” They followed the waiter to their table and sat down. It was lit only by candles. Ziva had never been to such an expensive restaurant in America, and never such a romantic place, though she suspected the candlelit table was a particularly special one, as most of the tables they had passed seemed to be lit with proper lamps. “Besides, you look nice.”
“You are only saying that because my shirt is a little lower cut than usual.” She took a sip of her water. It was pleasantly flavored with a slice of lemon.
“Well. Maybe.” He grinned, letting his eyes trail up and down her body in an exaggerated manner. “But you’re not objecting.”
She smiled at him over the top of her glass. “I expected no less.”
When the menus arrived, Tony snatched hers before she had a chance to open it. “I’ll order for both of us,” he said. “Otherwise I’ll have to explain everything that sounds interesting to you.”
Ziva raised her eyebrows, smirking slightly. “Come here often, do you?”
“Well. No,” he admitted. “But I used to. With my parents. Before, well, you know.”
“You’re being awfully honest tonight, Tony,” she observed as he looked over the menus. “Almost straightforward. Usually you try to hide.”
He grinned at her over the menus. “It’s all a part of my charm. Honesty when you least expect it.”
“No wonder Gibbs hasn’t been won over yet,” she laughed. “You can hardly turn that sort of charm on him when he expects you to be honest always.”
“I’m turning the charm on you. Are you won over yet?”
She took another sip of water, amused. “Keep trying.”
The meal arrived with wine. Tony had steak, and had ordered her some sort of pasta dish with vegetables and meat. She picked up her fork and prodded the food cautiously. “There’s no ham in this, is there?”
“Ham?” Tony looked up from his food and hurriedly swallowed a mouthful of steak. “No, it’s chicken. Why should there be ham?”
“I just wanted to make sure. I wasn’t sure if you knew I don’t eat ham.” She took a cautious bite. It was good, subtly flavored with some spice she didn’t recognize.
“Er, I didn’t. I just thought you’d like that. Why don’t you eat ham?”
And here she was thinking Tony was being kind and thoughtful for once. “I’m Jewish, remember? I eat kosher. Ah, most of the time.”
“Oh.” He looked a bit taken aback, then shrugged. “I’ll file that under things to remember.”
Ziva was, she knew, a lightweight. A single glass of wine usually wouldn’t be too much for her, but she knew it would affect her at least a little, so like a good agent she didn’t drink more than half her glass, though it was excellent wine. Tony, on the other hand, seemed to have downed half the bottle and was showing no sign of feeling it. Dinner had been finished and dessert (unexpectedly, two miniature chocolate cheesecakes) had arrived, and he was still drinking the wine and offering her more.
“Here, just let me top off your glass,” he said, lifting the bottle and tipping the neck towards her glass.
She put out her hand to stop him. “No. I don’t want any.” She glared at him until he set the bottle down and slowly sat back in his seat.
“I’m sorry, Ziva. I just thought you’d like it as much as I do.”
She sighed and set down her fork. “Really, Tony. Did you think I’d be that—what is the word? Easy?”
“Easy?” He blinked, then suddenly sat straight up. “Did you think I was trying to get you drunk so you would come home with me?”
“Yes, Mister DiNozzo, I believe that is exactly what you were doing.”
He leaned across the table and took her hands in his, looking—for the first time—terribly earnest. “I would never do that. To you, or anyone else. I may like women, a lot, but I’m never dishonest with my intentions or in my actions, especially with someone like you. I know I couldn’t trick you, because you’ve tricked me before, and you… intimidate me a little.”
She looked back at him, astonished. “I’m sorry, Tony. I underestimated you.” She paused. “Do I really intimidate you?”
He grinned. “Yeah. I think it’s because I like you and you’re smart. That doesn’t usually happen to me.”
“Did Kate intimidate you?” She couldn’t resist a small smile.
For once he was unabashed. “Yes.”
“Do I remind you of her?”
He shook his head. “Not in the least. You may have a similar role on the team, but you’re a completely different sort of girl. And I think I like that.”
“Hmm.” She thought about that for a moment. “Thank you for telling me all this, Tony. I really appreciate it. But I think that means that this date has occurred under false pretenses.” His face fell for a moment, until she added, “So we will just have to have another one, understanding each other’s intentions this time.”
That impish grin spread over his face again, and he seemed about to say something, but this time Ziva gave into her impulse, leaned across the table, and kissed him. And the rest, as they say, is history.