It all started with a touch, if you could call it that. Age-roughened fingers slid, maybe innocently, across a pale strip of skin exposed between a shirt and a skirt. His fingertips left a trail of tingling fire in their wake—a fire that sank below her skin, into muscle and bone. She was loath to stand up, but they were surrounded by the rest of the team, and it would look somewhat strange to stay in this position, hunched over and riding a lovely wave of goosebumps for the next ten minutes.
The contact had been so light that, honestly, she almost couldn't be sure that it had happened in the first place—until she turned and caught his eyes. They burned with a question, a challenge, and a warning, and the combination made her stomach tighten pleasantly. She was glad that the other agents had apparently found something new on McGee's iPod to ridicule, because they didn't notice the all-but-tangible tension making the air waver between them.
As though hypnotized, she took a step or two forward. For several long moments, she fully intended to slip her arms around his neck and pull him down to her lips, forgetting all about where they were, or even who they were. She imagined he would be stone at first, unresponsive either out of shock or (worst case scenario) some form of embarrassment for her. Ignoring the latter, she imagined he would react slowly, like the spark of a fire spreading through kindling before erupting into a full-blown flame.
A sudden awareness of the silence surrounding them snapped her back into reality, and she felt her face flush with color. Her lips had parted slightly while she was lost in her little fantasy, and now she could feel her heart thudding faster in her chest. Someone repeated a question: one that had apparently been directed at one of them. Him. He was the first to break through their tension, by lifting his eyes to the Mossad agent's face, as though nothing had happened just then. A strange look would later pass between the senior agent and his female coworker, but in time they would simply dismiss it as yet another idiosyncrasy on the part of their fearless leader.
She said nothing: just lowered her eyes with a coy smile that would be lost on all but the one receiving it, and handed over the file she'd been retrieving before any of this began. It would be a tie game. For now.