"I can't believe you're doing this to me, McGeek." Tony swiveled on his chair, and glared at his co-worker. "What makes Ziva the best choice?"
"Two reasons, you're not female and this event is important." McGee stood up.
"But Ziva?" Tony scowled at his female co-worker's empty desk.
McGee grinned. "Yeah, Ziva…" He tossed the last of his things in his bag, and locked his desk drawer.
Realizing that he was going to be the last one in the office, Tony reached down to grab his bag. Muttering something under his breath about the ingratitude of Probies. Tim smirked as he pressed the down button on the elevator.
For once McGee really didn't care about Tony's sometimes irritating behaviour. The invitation to this party had come from his editor, and the engraved card was sitting on his desk at home. When the event was first mentioned, his editor had asked if Tim would be bringing a guest. Her name popped into his head, without thinking McGee said "Miss Ziva David".
The engraved invitation had arrived two days later, and McGee hadn't been able to take his eyes off the line Timothy McGee Esq. and Miss Ziva David. Neatly lettered in beautiful copperplate on the gold dotted line. Flushed with feelings he hardly dared think about, it had taken a lot to pluck up the courage to ask her.
He didn't want to think about what he would do if she said no.
When Ziva graciously accepted his invitation, the warmth of her smile, McGee experienced a light-headed moment of complete triumph.
It was a cocktail event, and McGee knew that his publisher and agent wanted him to meet the cream of the crop. He dressed with care. Navy pinstripe suit, pinkish-lilac striped shirt, the cotton crisp and perfect, no tie. He had arrived, with Ziva by his side, that was just the perfect end to a perfect day.
Trading up from the Porsche was an extravagance but McGee thought the Maserati was a more serious vehicle. It said man who plans ahead. He wanted to show Ziva that he was a man who planned ahead.
When he lead her from her apartment, and held the car door open for her, he could tell she was impressed. But if she was impressed by his choice of vehicle, by his clothing and his new found confidence; he was blown away by her sophisticated beauty.
He didn't know the name of the designer, but the simple pale blue dress, Grecian in style, soft fine pleats in silk organza flowing over a column of silk in a slightly darker hue was perfect. She had never looked more beautiful.
She was so much more than a Mossad assassin.
Ziva David was a beautiful and accomplished woman; and Agent Timothy McGee had been more than half in love with her for years.
