Chapter 2: I Look at You and I Fantasize

Couples began to merge together again, dancing, as Ziva stood by watching DiNozzo walking away from her. She was absolutely livid, wondering just what in the hell kind of game he was trying to play with her.

Acting quickly, she crossed the room, nimbly darting between dancing couples. When she reached him, his back was still toward her, so she reached up to his shoulder and yanked him around to face her. She had been forceful, and she could see that he was surprised but impressed by her strength. Inwardly, she gloated while maintaining her outward appearance of cool wrath.

"What the hell?" she asked him angrily, unable to form a more coherent thought, the words coming out more sharply than she would have liked, thanks to her accent.

"Oh, princess has gotten all riled up," he teased.

"I did not give you my name," she spat, "so that you could keep calling me princess."

"Well it suits."

"You are aggravating," she hissed through clenched teeth, and Tony had to admit that the way her face contorted when she got angry was really a sight to see. This woman seemed to be a firecracker, a little spitfire.

"Then why did you follow me?"

Ziva closed the distance between them so that they were toe to toe, and leaned her body against his. Tony sucked in an involuntary breath at her closeness and noted how her eyes brightened at the fact that he was noticeably uncomfortable. He flashed his most confident grin at her in an attempt to show her that he would not back down, and she responded by leaning even closer to him.

Licking the corner of her lip with her tongue, Ziva tilted her head upward. Her face was so close to his, she could practically run her tongue along his lips if she wanted to, finding out if he would taste as good as he looked. Desire was the only way to describe the way DiNozzo (god, why would he not give her his name?) was looking down at her, and Ziva smirked.

Leaning just the tiniest bit closer to him, knowing that he was absolutely sure she was going to kiss him, she puffed out one hot breath across his lips, threw on a sultry grin, then backed away slowly, one step, two steps, punctuating them with the sensuality of her hips, then turned and walked toward the door, leaving him stunned in her wake as she gave him a taste of his own medicine. That felt good, she thought to herself.

She didn't turn around to see his reaction, and she wasn't surprised to find that he hadn't followed her as she left the party. He was every bit as stubborn as she was, Ziva realized, and she wondered how long it would be before one of them cracked.

The night had gotten significantly cooler in the time since she'd stepped into the party with the watermelon, and goosebumps began to dot her flesh. Then again, it had been so hot inside.

It wasn't that hot when you first walked in there, her subconscious reminded her, and Ziva narrowed her eyes at the thought. She had to admit, that was correct. It only got to be hot in the staff house after she started dancing with DiNozzo.

Ziva puffed out a frustrated sigh at the thought of the irritating man.

What was it about him that got under her skin?

Of course, he was sexy, that much was obvious, and worse, he knew it. He had that cocky grin that lit up his entire face, making him seem like the entire world was his to take. He had an air about him that indicated that he wouldn't be pushed around, something Ziva admired, not wanting to be pushed around herself, but she still found that he could be intimidated under the right circumstances. Yeah, a hot body pressed up against him. She smirked.

She bent down and pulled off her sandals and hooked them under her fingers, enjoying the feeling of the dirt path between her toes. She let out another sigh, willing herself not to turn around and head back to the party to grab this DiNozzo character and take what she wanted.

Realizing that yes, she did actually want this man, Ziva let the feeling wash over herself. It had been a long time since she had actually felt desire for another person, and it was good to have a crush, perhaps someone with whom she could share a little summer romance. Or maybe more.

Eli would certainly not approve, and she smirked at the thought. "Fuck Eli," she said aloud, and she loved the way the words sounded on her lips. She loved her father, she did. As much as she wanted to hate his guts, she couldn't find it in herself to do so. And he had made her life so difficult. Always dictating what she would do, how she should dress, where she would attend school, and who she should marry. If anything, the fact that Eli would so fervently dislike Mr. DiNozzo was all the more reason to pursue him.

Ziva bit her lip as she continued to wander up the path. DiNozzo was infuriating, yes, but she couldn't help feeling drawn to him. She was almost back to the guest house, but still she had to fight the urge to turn around and go back to him for another dance.

Or something else. She snorted at her thoughts. She knew what it felt like to be wrapped in those strong arms of his, but what would it be like to run her fingers through the hair on his chest? To tease her lips along that slightly scruffy jaw of his? To roll her hips in time with his, not to music, but to a different, more primal rhythm?

"Shit," she muttered under her breath. She had known the man all of, what, twenty minutes? And already she was fantasizing about him naked? And in bed?

She brushed an errant stand of hair away from her face, lost in thought. She was acting like a twelve-year old girl, crushing on someone and becoming all flushed at the mere thought of him. She was an adult, she could go back to the party, run up to him, grab his hand, and take him somewhere to have her way with him. Who would stop her? Eli wouldn't know, and what he didn't know would hurt absolutely nothing.

Footsteps interrupted her thoughts, and before she had a chance to head back toward the party, Tali was standing before her, worry and anger etched on her features.

"Where in the earth did you go?" Her sister's accented English broke her from her thoughts.

Ziva opened her mouth to correct her sister's English but thought better of it, not wanting to start an argument. She didn't have the energy to argue with Tali again tonight. "I went for a walk, Tali. Why does it matter?"

"Without me? Why are you so eager to be alone all the time?"

"Why do you need to cling to me like a child?" came the biting response. Tali was her sister and dear friend, yes, but sometimes she needed to learn how to do her own thing. It wasn't entirely Tali's fault, of course, since Eli had severely limited the amount of people they were approved to spend time with, but by now Tali should have grown at least a little independent.

"Well excuse me for wanting to spend time with you before you leave forever," accused Tali dramatically, her tone laced with equal venom to that of her sister.

"I am not going to leave forever," Ziva spat, her anger causing her words to sound sharper, more enunciated. "And besides, it is not as if I actually wanted to go to this stupid medical school in the first place. You can thank your precious Abba for that."

Tali was rendered speechless, her jaw forming an "o" shape at her sister's words. She knew that Ziva was angry at their father, but she hadn't known just how deep it had gone.

Ziva pushed past her sister, muttering, "Just leave me alone, Tali. I'm going to bed." She knew she should stop and apologize to her sister for lashing out at her, but it was about time Tali realized that Eli was not the perfect father she idolized. And that it was going to be okay if they didn't spend every waking moment together.

Careful not to slam the door as she made her way back into the guest house, Ziva padded quietly down the hallway to her bedroom, glad for the second time that night that her sister hadn't followed her. She exhaled a breath she didn't know she'd been holding as she slipped into her bedroom, turning the lock behind her. She tossed her sandals to the corner of the room, then crossed to the bathroom, where she turned on the water to the bathtub and began to disrobe.

She tested the temperature of the water with her toe before sliding into the tub, satisfied that the warmth was adequate. She closed her eyes as she sank into the bubbling water, and her thoughts immediately landed on the striking Italian man she'd met earlier.

She leaned her head back against the tub, delighting in the feeling of the water rippling around her. To her annoyance, she couldn't quite relax, and she realized that this DiNozzo guy had really gotten her aggravated. "Maybe I should have gone back," she muttered to herself quietly. For what felt like the hundredth time, she let out a long, drawn out sigh, annoyed at her inability to get him off her mind.

Sinking down lower into the bath so that her head was nearly under water, she puffed out a breath of air into the tub, releasing bubbles to the surface. If only it were that easy to release her own tension, she mused. She certainly could relieve her own tension, but she didn't think it would be that effective. DiNozzo could probably do it much more effectively.

She sighed again, shaking her head as if to dislodge the thought of him from her mind and reached for the hotel's generous selection of soaps, choosing a citrus fruit-smelling one, ignoring the fact that she thought that he might like the smell on her skin.

A shiver went through her at the thought of him being close enough to smell her skin in the first place, and she laughed out loud at how she was acting, not caring that her parents might hear her. She was being utterly ridiculous, and over a guy she just met. An aggravating and cocky American, at that. Who had gotten so far under her skin that she felt tingles at the very thought of him.

For the first time since they'd arrived at the resort, she felt free and happy, and she had this silly schoolgirl crush to blame it on. Now, if only she weren't so damn … frustrated.

Ziva finished washing, climbed out of the tub, and toweled off, changing into a t-shirt and shorts to sleep in. She flipped the air conditioning to a lower temperature, and slid under the covers of the huge bed. She tried not to think about sharing it with DiNozzo, but couldn't get the image of him out of her mind.

It was going to be a long night.

"One, two, three, four, one, two, three, four!" Tony called out to the room, clapping along with the beat to accent the sound of his voice. It was a group class Vandenberg had made him offer this year for the senior citizens who came to the resort. They couldn't move worth a damn, and he was hardly teaching them anything that someone who wasn't aspiring to be a professional couldn't teach them, but he knew the futility of arguing with the boss at this point.

The old people seem to be having a good time, he thought to himself as he continued counting along. They were practicing a very simple step to a pretty slow beat, and much to his amusement, some of the older women were even shaking their hips as they moved. It was quite a sight.

Most of the couples had been married for years, although Tony had been ambushed by one couple who claimed to be on their honeymoon. He hoped, for his own sanity's sake, that this was the most active thing they were planning on doing this summer.

Taking a look at his watch, Tony crossed to the stereo and cut off the music. "Great job, everyone! I'll see you all back here on Thursday morning!" he called out to his students, and they slowly made their way across the floor and toward the doorway. One of the older women, a widow who had come with a girlfriend of hers, stopped by to thank Tony for the lesson, and he turned on the charm, grinning as he responded, "Any time."

Once all of the senior citizens had left the studio, Tony sat down with a bottle of water, wiping the sweat off his brow. The air conditioning did little to calm the heat from a good workout, and he was actually pretty exhausted from the party last night.

He hadn't drank a whole lot, at least in comparison to some of the other workers in the resort, but he hadn't slept well. Every time he tried to get comfortable, he found that a certain feisty Israeli kept dancing her way into his thoughts. He couldn't erase the feeling of her body tightly wrapped up in his arms from his thoughts.

He almost followed her when she left last night, but something had stopped him. It wasn't that he was afraid of Vandenberg and his rules, it was just …

It would have been too easy, he had realized last night, and he really kind of liked the chase. And he knew she was interested in him, and he couldn't wait for her to come to him. And she would, he was certain of that. She'd wanted him, badly.

Taking another swig from his water bottle, Tony began to think about the audition routine again. It occupied his thoughts almost constantly – when he wasn't thinking about a hot little Israeli who had somehow gotten under his skin, that is – and he wanted it to be perfect. Mandy typically taught her classes in the afternoons, so they would work on the number in the evenings and in the mornings before the earliest lessons. It wasn't ideal, but they didn't have much choice at this point.

Luckily, the schedule for lessons this summer wasn't quite full yet, and they'd have some extra time. Once the guests started to realize that they could take dance lessons, the schedule would begin to fill up fairly quickly, but it usually took a few weeks before that happened. The senior citizen class was the only thing he had to do all day.

He sat the bottle down on the table beside the stereo, and walked to the center of the room. Mandy was out helping in another part of the resort this morning, but he could still work on the number and try to knock out a bit more of the choreography even without her around.

He started the music and marked the number, doing the steps more in his mind than with his body. Without his partner, there was no reason to exert himself. He got to the point in the music where they'd left off, and he stopped, lost in thought. "We could …" he muttered under his breath, then shook his head. No. That wouldn't work.

Reaching into his pocket for the small remote control he'd picked up so he wouldn't have to cross the room for the stereo every time they needed music, he started the track over again, this time moving slightly more, as though Mandy were indeed with him. He closed his eyes, letting the music wash over him, and when he pulled his partner into his arms, it wasn't Mandy he envisioned.

It was Ziva.

His eyes snapped open, and he puffed out a deep breath as he came to his senses. Why was he fantasizing about Ziva now? And not when he was in a better place to appreciate her? Like in the shower?

A shiver ran up his spine at the thought. One stupid little dance with a young hottie and he was losing his bearings. What was wrong with him? Shaking his head as if to shake her out of his mind, Tony stopped the music again, restarting the track and marking the dance again, with the correct partner in mind. This Ziva chick was not going to get him through this audition, Mandy was. He needed to focus on the choreography, and leave Ziva where she belonged.

"In my bed," he muttered under his breath, smirking at the thought.

The door to the studio banged open then, and in walked an older woman Tony was very familiar with. She was beautiful for her age, with all of the grace and sophistication of a woman of high class. She was well older than him, but he didn't know by how much, exactly. The last time he'd asked, she'd laughed at him, the way rich people do, adding a patronizing, "Darling," to it, as though that would get him to stop wondering.

Malinda du Champ. Wife of the illustrious George du Champ, a high-powered businessman with whom, Tony was certain, his father had once had dealings. A mogul and one-of-a-kind, the type of man no one would dream of crossing. Except his wife, who stepped out on him regularly, for younger men like Tony himself.

"Darling," she said, crossing the dance floor to envelop him in a hug. "It's been ages. How are you?"

He knew she didn't really care, so he just shrugged, pulling away from her embrace. She was attractive, and she was always available and willing, as long as her husband wasn't around. Tony would be lying if he said that this wasn't one of the perks of working at the resort. The cougars were something else, and they were all married so none of them wanted a single thing from him except a good romp between the sheets.

"Come for dance lessons?" He asked, breaking the silence and putting some space between them. Something about Mrs. du Champ made him feel uncomfortable this year, as though something had changed.

"Me? Of course not," she said haughtily, as though the very idea of dancing was entirely beneath even her consideration. Tony swallowed. This was exactly the type of condescension his own father had dished him after he'd learned that Tony wanted to dance. These women would throw themselves at him while simultaneously looking down on him. And it had never occurred to him to mind it, until now.

"I came just to make sure that you were still here, my muffin," she cooed, and Tony swallowed down another gulp. He couldn't deny that he was still attracted to her, and it wasn't like it wouldn't be easy to just fall into the same routine. That's the problem, he thought. It's easy.

"Still here," he grinned, putting on his charmer face again. It was all he knew how to do, after all. Please the guests, keep them happy. Keep them coming back. And dance your heart out on a stage in New York in a month and then fucking kiss it all goodbye forever.

Cougars or no, he wouldn't miss this place when he made it.

The door to the studio banged open again, and both he and Mrs. du Champ snapped their heads toward the door, as Mandy strode in, placing her bag down and kicking her flip flops off. She was dressed to dance save for her shoes, and she called out a quick, "Hey," to both Tony and Mrs. du Champ before bending down to put on her heels.

"You have a class, I assume?" The older woman said, nodding toward Mandy. Tony couldn't help but notice how obvious her disappointment was.

Mandy started to answer, but Tony cut her off, saying, "Yes, shortly. Thanks for stopping by, Mrs. du Champ. It's been great to see you again." Mandy hid her surprise well, focusing on tightening the straps on her shoes, and Malinda du Champ sauntered across the dance floor and toward the door, casting a backward glance over her shoulder at Tony, as if to say she would be back.

He knew she would.

"What was that?" Mandy asked when the woman was out of earshot. She started to stretch her legs and warm up her muscles so that she and Tony could work on their number.

"Nothing," he shrugged in response. She raised her eyebrows at him, but he didn't elaborate, though he knew that Mandy was well aware that essentially kicking Malinda du Champ – or any of the women who came calling on him – out of the studio was highly unusual. Usually, Mandy would have been the one to be shoved aside while Tony and whoever had come calling would have their fun in his bedroom above the studio.

"Let's just get to work. I think I may have found something we can do after that lift," he offered, and she crossed the floor toward him. Tony started the music again, and before long, he was lost in the movement, the encounter with Malinda forgotten.

The encounter with Ziva, however, still lingered in a nagging corner of his mind.

The morning air was cool, and a breeze rustled through the path as Ziva ran, her feet padding rhythmically on the pavement in time with the music. Listening to her favorite Israeli pop bands always put her in a good mood, and she'd chosen this playlist specifically for running, because all of the songs were upbeat and kept a good tempo.

It was so good to get back into running. She had missed it.

Her family had kept her occupied over the past couple days, not allowing her the opportunity to go off on her own and see what other activities the resort had to offer. It had been a series of introductions to boring person after boring person after boring person, and often, their boring sons, as well. Ziva guessed that Eli had figured if he couldn't marry her off to Michael, maybe one of the resort guests, all of whom were certainly from the correct side of the tracks, would be suitable for her.

Ziva clenched her fists at the thought of it, picking up her pace without thinking. When would Eli get it through his thick head that she was not interested?

The more he tried to push her toward potential suitors – something that made her feel very much the princess that DiNozzo had dubbed her – the more Ziva found herself imagining the hot dance instructor.

The family outings, it seemed, had not kept her from thinking about him, and it had been three days already.

Why had she not been able to get him off her mind?

Ziva followed the trail through the wooded part of the resort, a path she hadn't yet taken but had been looking forward to, now that she had the opportunity to run it. The trees kept the area slightly darker than the open path she'd been on before, and it was hard for her to see very well. Because she wasn't sure what kind of roots or rocks might be on the trail, she kept her head angled downward, looking only a few steps ahead to ensure she would step correctly.

It would not be a good thing to trip over a tree branch and break her neck out here in the middle of nowhere.

The run was calming her, and Ziva let her mind wander as a new song came blasting through her earbuds. It was one of her favorites, a fast-paced song about the rush of finding a new lover, and she let her mind drift to DiNozzo. Again, she reminded herself.

A small smile tilted the corners of her mouth.

As much as she tried, she couldn't stop thinking about the man, or the way his arms felt wrapped around her while they'd danced. It was as if he'd burned her, and everywhere he'd touched her was irrevocably changed. The attraction was so strong, so primal, that she could hardly think of anything else but how it would feel to have him. To moan as he took her into his arms and held her tightly, to cry out his name as pleasure overtook her.

If only she knew what his first name was.

She'd been dying to run back to the staff area, to try to find where he stayed. She needed to know his name, at the very least. But she was sure he wasn't interested, because why else wouldn't he have come after her the other night? And it had been three days.

How would she look if she came running to him now, after three days, when he was clearly not even interested enough to give her his name? She'd thought about him every night since the party as she lay in bed, imagining him between her legs, but she didn't even know who he was. Why was she so infatuated with this man, this dance instructor who'd given her one dance and an infuriating nickname before leaving her wanting?

She wiped sweat from her brow as she trudged up a slight incline, quickening her pace a little, trying to force herself to concentrate only on the run. Focus on the steps. Focus on your arms, and your form. Don't focus on the way it felt when you could feel his breath across your cheek.

Fuck!

She sped up even faster, hoping that somehow, the physical exertion could relieve her pent up sexual frustration. She turned the music up and focused on her breathing, willing herself to stop thinking about DiNozzo. She worked her pace into a sprint, telling herself she'd just run to a tree she could make out in the distance, then slow to her regular pace. Buckling down, she concentrated on the movement, putting one foot in front of the other, determined to give it all she got. She rounded a curve in the trail, focusing only on the steps in front of her, when something came up and knocked clean into her, knocking her flat on her ass, her earbuds flying out of her ears.

The other thing was a person. DiNozzo's dance partner, in fact.

And she was hurt.

"OUUUWWWW!" She screeched, obviously in an immense amount of pain.

"Oh my god, oh … I am so sorry!" Ziva began, seeing that the woman – whose name, she realized, she also did not know – was unable to move. Her leg seemed to be bent at an unnatural angle, and Ziva knew she wouldn't be able to get back up and walk back to her room. Or anywhere, for that matter.

"Why don't you watch where you're going?" The dancer screamed, tears streaming down her face. Ziva felt terrible, and she didn't know what to really say other than what she had already said – she was sorry.

"I …" she trailed off. "You cannot walk," she added unnecessarily, feeling uncomfortable at the thick silence that had settled over the area. Even the birds seemed to have quieted, leaving Ziva feeling as though only she and this dancer woman were left in all of civilization.

"Well thank you, Captain Obvious," the woman said, and Ziva furrowed her brow in confusion, not understanding the expression. "You have to help me!"

"Yes, of course," came the response, and Ziva snapped back to attention. She noticed that the end of the trail was just around the bend, and if she ran quickly she could have help in just a few minutes. She started toward the end of the trail, when she was halted by the panicked sound of the dancer's voice.

"Where are you going?"

"I have to get help. I will call for the emergency services. The para- paraplegics, no the para-"

"Paramedics?" The blonde supplied slowly, enunciating every word as though Ziva were a child.

"Yes. The paramedics," Ziva replied, trying her hardest not to sound irritated. After all, she wasn't the one lying on the ground with a broken leg from someone else's carelessness. But did the woman have to be so rude?

She turned again to head back toward the resort, and again, was halted by the sound of the woman's voice. "You can't just leave me here!"

"I am going to get help, I will be back. I cannot carry you, and you should not move, anyway. I am in excellent shape. I will return in a few minutes. I swear. And again, I am sorry."

Before Mandy could protest again, Ziva took off running toward the employee quarters. Her father was a doctor, yes, but like hell she was going to ask him for help, and DiNozzo would surely be interested in knowing that his dance partner was injured. The dance studio came into view, and she sprinted the final distance to the door, panting as she knocked loudly, hoping he would be in the studio, since she did not know where his room was located.

She tried not to look surprised when a woman, probably twice her age, opened the door with a raised eyebrow. Before Ziva could say anything, DiNozzo appeared behind the woman, shirtless and looking as though he'd just awoken from a coma. "Yes?" He muttered, clearly annoyed. It is nice to see you, too, she thought.

"It is your partner," Ziva breathed out, still panting heavily from having run much faster than she was used to, "she is injured."

His eyes snapped open at the words, like he hadn't been really awake before. "What?"

She followed behind him as he walked back toward the stairs, grabbing a shirt that had been discarded and throwing it on. "We were running on the trail nearby, and we collided. I did not … it was an accident, but I feel terrible, and I told her I would run for help." He slid on a pair of sneakers that were loose enough that he didn't need to tie them, and headed toward the door.

Almost forgetting about the older woman behind him, he shouted, "Later," at her before following Ziva, not noticing how Malinda's face scrunched into an angry scowl. Tony didn't even have it in him to feel sorry for the woman, now that he had to worry about Mandy, and the upcoming audition.

Oh god, he realized. The audition. He kept up pace with Ziva as they rounded a corner toward the trail, but felt his heart sink at the realization that if Mandy was truly injured as Ziva had said, then his audition, and all of the hopes and dreams that went along with it, were about to go poof.

Thank you everyone for your continued interest in this story. All of the lovely reviews I've received have made me so happy! Chapter 3 will be up on Friday evening.