Author's Note: I wrote this story quite a while ago and only just got around to typing it up and posting it. I only wrote up to what's posted here, and I'm trying to figure out what direction take it in. It'd be awesome to know if it's worth continuing.

Chapter 1

The sun's rays warmed her back, slowly turning the already olive skin even more golden. Ziva sighed contentedly, turning over in the plush sun lounger. This vacation to Miami was the best idea she'd had in a long while. Grateful not to be on the hot white sand below her, Ziva reached for the cocktail on the little table nearby. She let the cool, sweet sip slide down her throat as she picked up her book from next to the coaster where her cocktail previously rested and opened it to the tasseled bookmark. Soon, Ziva was fully immersed in the story, the crashing of the waves a nice soundtrack to her reading.

Ziva let out a rather un-Ziva-like shriek when she suddenly found herself doused with cold sea water. Still clutching her now soggy novel and fuming, she turned deadly eyes to the one responsible. A well built man with shaggy brown hair that stuck up despite its wetness stood there, holding a surfboard and looking very sheepish.

"I'm so sorry ma'am. Didn't see you there, I swear!"

"Why don't you watch where to point that thing?" Ziva indicated the surfboard. "Now you have ruined my book!" She shook the soggy mess at him.

John looked down at the white bikini clad woman. She was an exotic beauty, but the dark chocolate eyes glaring up at him from under wet curls were no shallow threat; no, these eyes held the promise of bodily harm- these eyes were truly dangerous.

"In my defense, you seem to have been lost in your book. Didn't you notice you're sitting in the tide?" He grinned down at her, a move that Rodney would call 'Kirking', hoping to defuse the situation.

Surprised, Ziva looked over the edge of her chair and found that there was indeed water swirling around the chair and table…..and soaking her bag.

"Oh!" Ziva snatched up the bag, letting the water drip off of it as she opened it up to check the contents. Thankfully, all the important stuff like her phone and rental car keys was in another waterproof bag, but…

"Now my towel's wet too." Ziva sulked, the anger gone from her eyes.

"Oh, hey, you can use mine…I swear I haven't used it yet." He amended at her sharp glance. "I've been too busy surfing." He wiggled the board under his arm.

Ziva looked at the board with some interest. "How do you stand up on those things without falling off all the time?"

John's smile grew. Maybe this 'Kirking' stuff had some truth to it after all. "if you'd like, I could teach you?"

After some thought, Ziva looked up with a smile. "In that case, maybe we should introduce ourselves properly. I am Ziva David."

John held out a hand. "John Sheppard. Surfer dude and soaker of unsuspecting women."

Ziva shook the offered hand and got up with a mischievous glint her eye. "So you admit it. You did it on purpose!"

John chuckled. "I admit nothing."

They walked to a dry stretch of beach and John set the board flat on the sand. "Okay, so we're going to start dry, so you can learn the techniques and stand on the board correctly so you don't fall off."

About half an hour later, John stood up and brushed sand off his board shorts.

"All right! I think we're ready for the water!"

Ziva looked up from her prone position on the board. "Really? You think so?" Ziva stood and picked up the board.

"Yep. I'm gonna go borrow a board so I can go out with you. You go on ahead and I'll meet you at the water." John jogged off toward a board rental shack a bit further up the beach. Ziva watch him go for a few seconds, then started towards the water.

It took many, many tries, but finally Ziva stood triumphantly on the board as the wave carried it towards the beach. Pumping a fist in the air, Ziva succeeded in losing her balance and toppled off the board. She broke the surface of the water laughing, and John drifted up beside her, straddling his board.

"Hey! You finally did it!" He grinned.

With a rather un-Ziva-like giggle, Ziva responded, "Yes I did, and think we should celebrate by you buying me dinner." Here her smile turned positively naughty.

"Shouldn't the one celebrating be the one buying?" John returned.

"No, I am the victor therefore I get choose what we do. You are buying me dinner."

"Fine. Joe's Crab Shack?" John asked.

"Sounds good. You can pick me up at the Sands Hotel lobby at 6:30. Do not be late. I do not like slowfolks." Ziva pulled on her by now dry cover-up sun dress and pointed a finger at John.

"I think you meant slowpoke. And I'll be there."

With that, both of them made their way back to their hotels to prepare for the evening ahead.