Chapter 5: What Love's All About

"And back, and turn-turn-turn, and – c'mere," Tony spun Ziva back into him, planting a searing kiss to her lips as the music blared on around them. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her tightly into him before she pulled away, her face changing to a fake stern expression, her lips closed tightly but a hint of a smile in her eyes.

"We have to focus," she reprimanded him without even a hint of sincerity, planting a light peck to his lips before backing away again.

"I am focused," Tony answered pointedly, raising an eyebrow. On you, he didn't have to say.

"You are not," she argued, and she reached into his pocket to pull the stereo remote out and restart the music, tucking it back in and taking her place across the floor as the song picked up from the beginning again.

She didn't even get the chance to spin into the frame before Tony grabbed her and pulled her against him again, sliding his hands down her back to circle around her ass, kissing her with short, light pecks and dancing with her like they were in a club and not a ballroom dance studio.

"Tony!" she cried, struggling against him, adding between kisses, "We! Have! To! Practice!"

"I just can't get enough of you," he said almost apologetically before pulling her close and kissing her again.

Pulling away again, her face flushed, Ziva gasped out, "Your audition."

Striding toward her, Tony took her into his arms again, kissing her neck and causing her to tremble in his arms. Light moans escaped her lips as he traveled lower, down her collarbone and past her chest to lift up her shirt and plant a kiss to her stomach. "Tony," she warned, but she had to admit that she wasn't being very convincing.

"Yes?" He murmured against her skin, reaching around to grab her ass again. Every touch sent a shock through her, and she felt the moisture pooling between her legs.

This was rehearsal time, though, and the show was getting so close. "The audition is in five days," she reminded him, sounding almost regretful.

Stepping back again, leaving him on his knees, an almost sad, puppy-dog look in his eyes, she felt almost bad seeing his dejected face. She did a spin with the music, kicking her foot in front of her and shaking her hips for his benefit, then ran her hands up her body and through her hair, never missing a beat with her footwork. Tony practically growled at her, his obvious hunger for her threatening to overwhelm him. "You don't really want to work right now," he accused huskily, the low tone of his voice sending a shiver down her spine.

Never leaving his gaze, she sunk down to his level, getting on her hands and knees and crawling slowly across the floor toward him, acting like a lioness on the hunt. He moved toward her, as well, and when they met, their lips crashed together, and Tony lifted one hand off the floor to tangle in her hair, pulling her mouth against his and taking her, the muscle in his jaw flexing as he worked his tongue into her mouth.

Pulling Ziva with him, he sat down on the backs of his legs, taking his free hand and wrapping it around her waist. Still using the tips of her fingers to support herself, Ziva scooted forward on her knees and into his embrace, finally settling with one knee between his, picking up her hands to take his face into hers as she returned his kisses, never breaking the contact between them.

"Mmmmm," Tony groaned into her mouth, the sound causing her to shiver again and slide even closer to him. Finally, she collided with him and began to lean sideways toward the floor before settling down halfway on top of him, her hand across his chest and her legs tangled in his.

His arms had just started to tighten around her, the kiss becoming slower and more intense, when the sound of the door slamming broke them apart. Startled, they both looked up toward the door, noting Tim's shocked expression at having caught them in a very compromising and very much non-dancing position.

"Uh…" he started, his face reddening as he stood in place, blinking rapidly and trying to find the words.

"Hello, Tim," Ziva said simply, sitting up and away from Tony and running her fingers through her hair. Tony marveled at how calm she sounded considering the fact that she had been panting for breath just a few moments beforehand.

"I uh…" Tim began again, then drew in a breath, his face still bright red. "I came to see how the, um … the rehearsals were going." Ziva stood up and reached down to grab Tony's outstretched hand to pull him up. He brushed the seat of his pants with his hands, then wiped his hands down the front of his pants.

"They are going fine," Ziva said evenly. "At least, I believe they are, but I am not the dance teacher," she added innocently, glancing at Tony, who was acting tense, as though he'd suddenly become uncomfortable with her in the room. Or was that because of Tim?

"Fine," echoed Tony absentmindedly. "Hey uh, listen Tim. You just came up here and we were practicing, all right?"

"No you weren't, you were–"

"Practicing," Tony repeated sharply, interrupting him, looking at Tim pointedly. "We were practicing."

Catching on, Ziva jumped in, adding, "Technically, he is giving me lessons, which I have paid for up front. Since I believe there is no audition, yes?" A grin spread across Tony's face at Ziva's addition to his cover story. He wasn't sure how much she knew about his history with Vandenberg, but she seemed to have picked up on the fact that this wasn't something that was meant to be widely known.

Somehow, he'd always known he could trust her.

"Right," Tim agreed, his eyes darting back and forth between them. "But you guys were–"

They both spoke at the same time. "Rehearsing."

"Taking dance lessons."

Tim nodded, looking uncertain. The room was quiet for a few moments, Tony and Ziva catching each other's sidelong glances and Tim looking on uncomfortably. After what seemed like several minutes of awkward silence, Tim finally found his voice, saying, "I'm not going to blab to Vandenberg, you know. About the audition. Or the two of you."

"Tim," Tony warned, but the other man didn't let him finish.

"I watched you guys flirt the night of the party. I'm, um, actually not surprised. But I won't say anything." Tim's short outburst of courage ended, and he puffed out a huge burst of air, obvious relief setting in.

"Thank you," Ziva answered, deciding not to give Tony the chance to respond. She'd seen him act rudely to Tim before, and while she didn't know their history or whether Tim had given Tony a reason to act that way, she didn't think it was necessary to be impolite.

"Anyway I, uh…" Tim started again, remembering the real reason he'd come to the studio. "I need to let you know about the party next Saturday." He turned toward Ziva slightly, explaining, "It's for the whole resort, staff and guests. We have to serve dinner, but after that, we get to enjoy ourselves. It's always a great time. Anyway," he looked at Tony again, "We'll need your help setting up, around two. Can you make it?"

"Yeah, of course," Tony responded. He was glad it wasn't something serious, and now that he realized how he and Ziva had been caught, he was glad it wasn't someone more serious.

"Cool," responded Tim, and he smiled, a genuinely happy look about him. "You should teach me to dance someday," he added, and tried to do a few steps, but ended up tripping over his feet and stumbling.

"Perhaps not," Ziva teased, and Tim nodded sheepishly while Tony smirked toward her. Nice one, he thought.

"Anyway, we have work to do," Tony began, "but I'll be glad to help out for the party. And I'll let you know how it goes." Tim looked confused for a second, but then his eyes widened as he realized what Tony was talking about. The audition.

"Right. Yeah. Um, get to work," he prodded, and strode out the door, letting the wind slam it shut behind him.

"If the audition goes well, I'm asking you to be my date to this party," Tony said, walking to the door and locking it. "Should have done that," he pointed at the lock, "a long time ago."

Ziva nodded, then recognized what he'd said. "Wait, only if it goes well?" She mocked being offended, stepping toward him.

"Yeah, see…" he began, then paused, thinking for a moment. "If I get picked up by this company, I don't care if I'm caught with you. Vandenberg can fire me and it won't matter. But if I don't, well, I have to keep my job, and to do that, I have to … well, I have to pretend we're just acquaintances. Or partners."

"Partners," she echoed.

"You understand?" He asked, though it sounded more like a statement, and he worried about whether she would be hurt at how casual he was being.

"Yes," she responded, her voice sounding clipped. Going to the dance, showing up as Tony's date. She wanted it, so badly. Her heart ached with longing, longing to take him back to the house, announce to her family that she was with him, longing to dance with him in public and not in secret. "I do not know if I can."

"Huh? Why not?"

She drew in a breath, stepping toward him and taking his hand. "Please understand. It is my father. I would love to go with you, Tony. We would dance together all night and I would have the time of my life. But my father, he would not understand. He would … I do not even know what he would do."

"You're afraid of him. Of what he might think," Tony accused. "Or just ashamed of me?"

Shock registered on her face at his words. "Oh, you are going to talk? Asking Tim to keep this a secret, sneaking around so you do not get fired?"

"That's different." He drew his hand away, out of her grasp. She stepped forward, but he stepped backward. Sighing, Ziva stood her ground, catching his gaze and imploring him to understand.

"How is it different? Do you not think we would face similar consequences, if your boss or my father found out?"

"Ziva–"

"Do not Ziva me," she retorted angrily. "There are high stakes in this for both of us, you know. Or did you not realize that whenever I walk into this room, whenever I step into your arms, I feel – for the first time – like I am not trapped?"

"Really?" he asked quietly, his face softening.

"Yes, really. I have never … I have never felt this free before. When we are together, I am laughing, I am happy. I do not worry about living up to a lifetime of expectations. I … I only worry about the steps … and I," she paused, taking in a few breaths before continuing, "I worry about what I will do, when we leave this place – and most importantly, you – behind."

He crossed toward her, placing his hands on her arms and kissing her on the forehead. "Ziva," he whispered, before pulling her into a gentle kiss, his arms slowly wrapping their way around her, and she sighed into his embrace.

She pulled away first, looking longingly into his eyes. "It is not that I do not want to be your date at the party. I want to more than anything," she asserted, her hands tightening on his shoulders. "But you have to understand about my father. He has always wanted me to be like him. Successful, powerful. And I have tried my entire life to please him, but I never have. I keep thinking that if I do everything he asks, he will be pleased; he will be proud. But … but …" she closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. Tony tightened his arm around her waist, encouraging her to continue. She opened her eyes back up and caught him looking at her intently.

"You are such an amazing woman, and your father is an idiot if he can't see that," he said quietly, barely above a whisper.

"I know. But … I still love him, despite it all. Sometimes, I am so angry at him, that he cannot see reason, but other times, I just want to make him proud," she stated, a single tear rolling down her cheek. Tony pulled her closer to him, tucking her head beneath his chin. He leaned down and kissed the top of her head, tousling her hair, drawing a light chuckle from her. He held her, rubbing his hand up and down her back, comforting her.

"Listen," he said, dropping a kiss on the top of her head, "I know how badly you want to please your father. I uh … went through something similar, with dancing. But did you ever consider telling him to piss off, and do your own thing? Something you want?"

She pulled back, her jaw dropping as she looked at him with astonishment. "Of course I have … but I … I can't do that!" Or can you? she thought, not for the first time. What could Eli honestly say? What could he honestly do? She was an adult, after all, and being left in New York after the family went back to Israel would make it incredibly easy for her to break free.

Tony watched her with interest, noting the way she mulled over the idea in her head. He understood the struggle; he'd lived it a few years ago. He wouldn't push her, but he could tell that she would be much happier without her father's influence. "You could," he said quietly after a few moments.

"I …" she trailed off.

"Think about it," he shrugged, and added, "and maybe be my date anyway. Is one date going to hurt anything?" He pouted his lip, acting like a wounded puppy, and she punched him lightly on the arm with a trace of a smile beginning to form on her face.

"I will think about it. About both things," she added in response to the question he was going to ask. "I would not like to go with anyone but you." And what would it hurt, going to the party with him? She was staying in America without her family after this vacation anyway.

"Good," he grinned. "Now, we should probably get back to dancing." She raised her eyebrows at him, as if to point out that she'd been the one who wanted to practice all along, but he merely smirked at her, and led her by the hand to the center of the room.

"Okay, watch everything, as if you were a judge," Tony said nervously, addressing Mandy from across the room. She'd recently gotten a walking cast – a significant improvement to her quality of life, no doubt – and she had come to watch Tony and Ziva dance together to ensure that everything looked the way it should. He'd given her a notebook to write down what – if anything – needed improvement.

"Make sure you're keeping an eye on technique, and make–"

"I know how to judge dancing," Mandy snapped, interrupting him. Her voice softened. "Go take your place. I'll handle the music."

Crossing the room, Tony caught Ziva's eye, silently giving her a look that said, behave. Ziva nodded almost imperceptibly, her eyes dancing in response. He could count on her to be just his dance partner while Mandy was around, but after she left, he figured they'd be all over each other again.

They'd just work up a little tension here on the floor in the meantime.

The music started, and just as they'd practiced a thousand times, Ziva started to talk toward him, her eyes alight as if she would eat him alive. She'd been great at getting into character before, but now that they'd started sleeping together, she'd really stepped up her game.

He pulled her into the dance frame, trying not to think about how hot it was, the way she looked at him when they were dancing. And when they were in bed. And when …

They executed everything with near perfection, the spin sequences, the difficult footwork, the kicks, and the lifts, and their chemistry during this performance seemed to sizzle, more so than ever before. He lifted her into the air for the final time, setting her down and into a spin sequence that would culminate with them landing in the final pose.

It had been a lot of hard work, but Tony finally felt confident about the dance and his chances, even without his original partner. And if she could keep up the intensity when they were on stage in a few days, they'd absolutely nail it.

"Great job," he whispered as she pulled away from him, stepping so that she was next to him, letting him take her hand for a quick bow sequence they'd rehearsed. She squeezed his hand, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye and catching his own sidelong glance, letting a smirk light her face.

"Well?" Tony asked, looking for Mandy for critique. Ziva dropped Tony's hand abruptly, choosing instead to fold her hands in front of her stomach, waiting nervously for Mandy's opinion.

"I'm … actually impressed," came the response. Tony and Ziva beamed at each other, and Tony let out a huge sigh of relief.

He crossed the room, picking up the notebook and looking at what she'd written, absentmindedly asking, "What do we need to work on?"

Ziva crossed toward where Tony stood as well, leaning over his shoulder to read Mandy's comments. Her handwriting was atrocious, and rather than attempt to decipher bad writing, she waited for Tony to point out what needed work.

"Keep your toes pointed on the lifts – yes, definitely. Really stretch the toes. Do it now, lemme see," he said, looking at her as she lifted her foot, pointing it as much as she could with the heels on her feet. He reached down and lifted her leg up to waist level, adjusting the foot to a better position. "Like that. Okay?" Ziva nodded, feeling very much like a child as he let her leg go and she set it back on the ground.

"What does this even say?" He asked, pointing at something on the page.

"Carriage is good," Mandy replied exasperatedly. It seemed to Ziva as though the handwriting had come up before. "Both of you. I was impressed with how tightly you both held the frame even during fast sequences."

"We worked on that a lot," Tony said, reaching to put his arm around Ziva's shoulder to pat her lightly. "Glad it paid off."

"What else?" Ziva asked, noting that Tony still had his arm around her shoulder. She tried not to pay it any mind, but these days, his touch was nearly impossible to ignore.

"We need better movement around the floor," Tony replied, reading from the page. "That one's on me. We'll work on that one a bit, but I don't want to change too much." Ziva let out a breath she hadn't known she'd been holding.

"Turns are good, could be a bit faster and tighter, but they look really great and that's just nitpicking at this point," Mandy said, glancing at Ziva, then added, "And she's not the one auditioning here."

"Yeah, but part of being a male is showing off the girl," Tony responded, a twinge of worry on his face.

"I don't think you have to worry about that. Do the turns again, show him what I mean," Mandy instructed, and Ziva stole a look at Tony, who nodded at her apologetically.

Ziva stalked to the center of the room, feeling again like she was a child, being told to go play away from the grown-ups. She took a prep position for the turns, and then did the turn sequence, a series of turns in both directions that also included some intricate footwork, finishing with a flourish. She looked at Tony again, who didn't respond to her questioning look. "Would you like to see it again?" she asked, since he appeared unsure.

"No, no. Sorry. You look fine, Mandy's right," he responded. She crossed back over to where he and Mandy were standing, still looking at the notes she'd written.

"Only fine?" she teased, perhaps a bit more flirtatiously than she had intended, but neither Tony nor Mandy seemed to notice.

"I gotta hand it to you, princess," Mandy started, earning a glare from Ziva at the nickname, "you shocked the hell out of me. Those judges probably won't be able to tell that you just learned to ballroom dance a few weeks ago."

Ziva's glare softened into gratitude, and she smiled at the older woman. "Thank you. I am sure that it is killing you to sit and watch with your foot in that stupid brace. I am still sorry, for what it is worth."

Mandy only half-smiled, but didn't say anything. Clearly, the leg was still a touchy subject. "Well, I might as well take off, you've gotta practice a bit more tonight, right?"

"Yeah, another hour or so," Tony responded, taking the notebook from Mandy's hands and setting it down on the chair she'd been sitting in earlier. He followed Mandy to the door, adding, "Thanks for the help," as she closed the door behind her. Tony clicked the lock and then strode over to where Ziva stood waiting expectantly for him, pulling her into his arms for a long, passionate kiss.

"I have been dying to do that," he murmured, then kissed her again, a slow, sweet embrace that started out gently, then slowly rose in intensity, lips colliding with each other between gasps and moans, the pair clinging to one another as though they could not breathe without the other's embrace.

"Are we really rehearsing tonight?" Ziva asked breathlessly when they pulled away again, their foreheads touching and their lips close enough that her words were kisses in their own right. She'd thought they were planning other activities, but perhaps her review had been much less favorable than she'd thought?

"God, no," he responded, picking her up off the ground and letting her wrap her legs around him, carrying them both to the stairwell and up to his bedroom. There would be time for rehearsing again tomorrow.

Tonight was theirs.

"I haven't seen much of you, darling," Malinda's haughty voice interrupted Tony's thoughts as he walked with his plate toward an empty table. He'd chosen to come to dinner late to avoid most of the crowds, but Mrs. du Champ had still found him. Ziva had gone back to the guest house for the night, wanting to get a good night's rest before the audition tomorrow.

Something she definitely wouldn't get if she'd stayed with him tonight.

"I've been pretty busy this summer," he replied nonchalantly, shrugging off his halfhearted apology.

"That's never been an issue before," she insisted, leaning in closer. Her perfume was overpowering, and Tony felt his appetite start to wane as the aroma seemed to settle all around him. He'd have to shower to erase the smell, not for Ziva's benefit, but his own. She smelled … nauseating.

"What can I say, people want dance lessons this year." He really didn't want to make a scene with this woman, so he sat down and began to cut his steak, taking a huge bite without acknowledging her continued presence.

She sat down in the chair next to his, leaning toward him. Damn, woman, he thought, swallowing his food, I am trying to eat here. He tried not to let his irritation show.

"You don't seem to have anything going on tonight," she cooed, running her hand up and down his left arm.

He took a drink of his water, trying to delay answering her. He wasn't interested – in fact, he hadn't really even thought about another woman since Ziva came back with him to dance all those weeks ago. Setting down his glass, he turned to look at the older woman, who was practically salivating over him.

"No, I don't," he started, but before he could continue, she cut in.

"Wonderful! Then when you finish eating, we can–"

"I wasn't finished," he interrupted. The horrified look on her face almost made him smile. Almost. "I'm going back to my room. Alone." He paused. "You're not coming with me." He watched as her face twisted back into a smile, and he knew that she had not gotten the message.

"Oh, darling, that's ridiculous," she laughed, smacking his arm. "Of course I am!"

Tony sighed and put his fork down. He reached over to her hand and removed it from his arm. "No," he said slowly and clearly, his irritation rising, "you're not, Mrs. du Champ. You're not coming with me. Not tonight, and not any other night."

She looked so offended, he thought she might fall over and die from the shock at what he'd just said. "Why … you …" she sputtered in anger, standing up and looking down at him menacingly. "I'll have you fired for this!" she threatened, and he shrugged in response, taking another bite of his steak.

"I've done nothing wrong," came the response through chewed food. Maybe if I act like a disgusting pig, she'll leave me alone, he thought.

"You can't … you can't just …" she started, then paused, pursing her lips together.

"I can't just what? Can't just make a decision for myself, because you or any of your other rich friends say I can't?" He stood up, the legs of the chair scraping loudly across the floor. "Because I am not a servant here, and I don't live to please your whims. Now if you don't mind, I'd like to finish my dinner in peace, ma'am." He stared her down, and she stared back. It took only a few moments for her to realize that he wasn't going to give in, and she huffed out an offended breath and then stalked off. Tony let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding, and sat back down.

He finished his dinner quickly, not waiting to see if she would come back. He knew Malinda's type, and she wasn't the type who appreciated not getting her way, but he shook his head, resolving not to worry about her. He just wasn't into casual sex anymore. He'd been screwing around long enough, both professionally and privately, and it was time for a change.

Walking the path from the cafeteria back to the studio, he imagined how it would feel to come back tomorrow and pack up his belongings, leaving Vandenberg's forever. A slight pang hit him, however, at the thought of leaving the one thing that had made this summer bearable – Ziva. It would only be for a little while, because she was going to school in New York anyway, but he'd gotten so used to her presence that it was hard to imagine his life without her.

How quickly things change, he thought. What had started as just a sexual attraction had become so much more in such a short amount of time. Whatever happened at the end of the summer when one – or both of them – left the resort, he would do anything to ensure that they could somehow stay together.

Ziva put the last few items she would need for the audition into her bag, then rifled through and double checked that everything on her list was there. She was nervous, but knowing that she had everything that she would need ready to go would remove one worry from her mind.

The only thing left to do was talk Tali into covering for her.

Setting her bag down outside the door to her bedroom, Ziva walked down the hallway to the room where her sister had set up residence. She had selected a room decorated mostly in yellow – her favorite color – and had wasted no time in moving in, with clothing strewn throughout the room. Tali could not live without her own personal form of not-so-controlled chaos.

"Tali," she called, catching her sister's attention. She looked up from her magazine for a second, then looked down, flipping the next page, an obvious show of ignoring her sister.

Ziva groaned inwardly. She hadn't thought Tali would be this upset with her for not wanting to spend her days watching boys by the pool. By now, surely, her sister would have found someone with whom she could spend time?

"Tali," she said again, more firmly. "Do you have just a minute, please?"

The younger girl again looked up from her magazine, appearing to contemplate the request. Ziva had a sense of urgency about her, and Tali had never been one to turn down someone in need. Even if that someone was her older sister, who had been ignoring her for days, sneaking off to parts unknown almost all the time.

"Yes?" Tali asked, giving Ziva the opening she needed to cross the room and sit down on her bed.

"I have to do something. It is … a debt I must repay to someone. It involves me leaving the resort for a while tonight," she started, noting how her sister's eyes grew incredulous, her mouth opening to show that whatever she had expected Ziva to say, it hadn't been that. Ziva gave her sister a chance to process the information, then continued, "Please, I will keep my door locked, but tell Abba that I have not been feeling well, and that is why I am not at dinner."

"You wish me to lie?" Her sister hissed, her thick accent making it difficult for Ziva to understand what she'd said at first.

"No! I mean … yes. Please, Tali," she begged. "I will make it up to you, I promise."

Tali sat in stunned silence for a few minutes, unable to decide what to say in response. "But if Abba finds out, we will both be in trouble," the younger girl finally replied, running her fingers through her hair and tucking it behind her ear.

"No, I promise, little sister. I will tell him I lied to you, too. For all he will know, you thought I was really ill."

"You are crazy, Ziva!" she whispered, worried that, at any minute, their father could come down the hall and see them conspiring against him. It was one thing that Ziva was already on his bad side, she had much less to lose. But Tali was the favorite, and after having watched the way Eli looked at her older sister, she had to admit that Ziva had been right – he was much harsher with Ziva than he was with her. She didn't want to do anything to fall out of her father's favor, not after seeing how he treated Ziva.

"I will make it up to you," Ziva repeated, "Just tell me how."

A brief flash of recognition came to Tali then, and she realized that she could ask her sister to come out with her and these two boys she'd had her eyes on. She wanted to approach them, but she couldn't very well date both of them, could she?

"I know that look," Ziva chimed in before her sister could respond. "No boys." She was already involved, and she would not risk that even to appease her sister. A small voice in the back of her mind asked her just when she'd started thinking of herself as involved, but she pushed it away.

"No boys? But–"

Ziva interrupted her. "No boys," she said again, more firmly, noticing the confused look on her sister's face. Ziva smiled softly, promising, "I will tell you the reason tomorrow. But you will help me?"

Tali sighed, rolling her eyes. "Okay, fine. I will lie for you. But you really do owe me, and I will collect." She had no chance to say any more though, because Ziva jumped across the bed and tackled her little sister, giving her a huge bear hug, showering her with words of gratitude in every language she could think of.

"Okay, okay! Get off me!" Tali shrieked. "If you have to go, you must better get out of here, before they come back." She didn't say where their parents were, but it was nearing the time they'd usually come back for a short nap before dinner. Ziva looked at Tali questioningly, but Tali didn't respond. If Ziva had been around, she'd know their parents' schedule too. "But if you do not want them to noticing, you should … go soon," she added, stumbling over the language.

"Thanks, Tali," Ziva responded earnestly. She left her sister on the bed, crossing to the doorway, bending down to pick up her bag as she did so. She returned to her room and crossed to the bed, arranging the pillows so it appeared as though she was lying down in the bed. Once she was satisfied with her handiwork, which she recognized must surely be the oldest sneaking out trick in the book, she went to the bedroom door, locked it, and then crossed back over to her go-to window in the corner, opening it up and sliding through.

Glancing around on either side, she made her way around the back of the guest house, making sure that no one was watching her. She shouldered her bag and made a run for the tree line, heading toward the path that would lead her to the dance studio, where Tony would be waiting for her.

Ziva's hands were shaking so much that she was having trouble putting on mascara.

She was looking in the mirror at her reflection, and almost didn't recognize her appearance. Mandy had pulled her hair back into a tight chignon before they'd left, one that left zero indication that her hair was naturally curly, and her face was covered in stage makeup, which included heavy eyeliner, a strong rouge against her cheekbones, and shockingly red lipstick.

Okay, she kinda liked the lipstick.

She finally managed to put the mascara on, setting it back into her bag. Tony strode into the dressing room wearing a tight pair of dance pants and a black shirt that was unbuttoned to the navel, baring his chest. It matched her own costume, a black number with red trim on the bodice, and a long skirt with a slit up to the thigh, that was black on the outside and red underneath. It looked spectacular when she turned.

"Ready?" He asked, and her eyes met his in the mirror. Her lips were pursed tightly together, and her eyes appeared worried, not at all like the feisty Israeli he'd grown used to. He crossed the room and stood behind her, placing his hands on her shoulders and kneading out the stress.

Not wanting to disturb her makeup, he leaned down and kissed her neck, and Ziva let out a breath she didn't know she had been holding.

"I am nervous," she admitted, catching his eyes in the mirror again. If this were any other thing, something for her father, perhaps, she wouldn't be, but this wasn't for her father. It was for Tony, and that made it more significant somehow.

Giving her shoulders a slight squeeze, he responded, "Don't be. We have practiced over and over. You know the routine. You know the music. You've got this."

Sighing again, she stood up, turning to face him. "It is your future at stake. How can you be so calm?"

"Because we have done all we can," he replied, and pulled her into a tight hug, kissing the top of her head. He pulled back slightly, holding her by the shoulders and looking down into her gaze, adding, "We just need to dance it one more time. You'll be fine. We'll be fine."

Closing her eyes, Ziva took one more deep breath to calm her nerves, then started to chuckle against his chest. "What?" Tony asked, confused.

"This is your thing, yet I am the one who is nervous," she said, a slight smile playing across her lips.

"I'm nervous, but not because of the dance. We know it. We've perfected it," he reassured her.

"Then…" she trailed off, stepping back and glancing in the mirror to make sure that she had not smudged her makeup.

"I'm nervous about the results," he said quietly, and a look of understanding washed over her. Of course, the results, whether or not the company would want him, would make all the difference.

"When will you know?"

"A few days, normally, maybe a week," he said nonchalantly, and Ziva could tell that he was trying not to dwell on it. Now that she thought about it, however, it was one more thing to be nervous about. "Don't you start worrying too, my ninja," he teased when he saw the look on her face, and she pursed her lips together, smiling inwardly. It was the first time he'd used a pet name other than princess, and it somehow made her feel more powerful, like she wasn't just a helpless damsel, but a warrior, a fighter.

Before she could respond, he placed his hands on both of her shoulders and looked her straight in the eye, and said, "Trust me. The nerves become adrenaline, and it will be over before you know it. Just let the movement take over. I trust you."

Ziva nodded, a smile creeping across her face. Tony turned and reached into his bag, taking a look at the watch he'd taken off and put away. He didn't have to tell her what time it was – she knew. It was almost time, and they should head backstage. Closing her eyes momentarily, she visualized all of her nerves sitting on her shoulders, then shook them, hard, and watched all of them fall to the floor. She took a deep breath and then opened her eyes, and followed Tony out the door of the dressing room.

The judges were barely visible out in the audience, partially due to the bright lights shining on the stage and partially because of their placement several rows back. Ziva was grateful for this, for although they were not used to dancing in this particular venue, at least she wouldn't feel as though all eyes were on her throughout the dance.

She and Tony gave a slight bow to the judges before taking their places, hers several paces from him, and she took a deep breath and put her dance face on, striking her starting pose and getting into character. It was only a few moments later that the music started, and she stalked toward him, her eyes catching his, the intensity crackling between them. He took her hand and spun her into him, pulling her sharply into his arms, and they began their sequence of movement together.

Their feet moved together in a staccato rhythm, the tricky footwork executed with near perfection, Ziva's toes rapping on the ground before she would wrap her free leg around his, leaning toward him and back, kicking the leg out and spinning into a slight lift. She turned away from him and back into him, each spin falling precisely on the music, like the music had been made for this dance, and not the other way around.

Tony pulled her back to him, his eyes looking to devour her with his every movement. He dipped her and she arched her back, her free hand trailing with a flourish behind her head, his hand running from her waist up to her free arm, grasping it and pulling her back up toward him. He led them around the floor, both stepping in a syncopated rhythm, and they executed a partnered turn sequence that moved quickly in one direction and then reversed before Tony pulled her into the frame once more.

Finally, he released her and they performed the same steps, only a few feet apart, Ziva's steps with more of a feminine flair, and Tony's much more masculine and controlled, exhibiting his prowess, as was tradition for this style of dance.

Ziva executed a turn sequence that took her even further from him, and the music began to crescendo toward its climax. She took a quick prep step and then stepped quickly toward him and into his waiting arms, where he lifted her high above his head by the waist, her lower arm locked on his and her legs spread in arabesque. He spun her around one, two, three times, and then she cascaded down his arm where he caught her expertly, placing her down and spinning her back into his arms.

A few more turns around the floor with a quick footwork sequence, a less extravagant lift, and a spin into the ending pose, and they were finished, their chests heaving. They took their bows before the judges, their hands locked together as they exited the stage to the sound of, "Thank you!" being called out from somewhere in the audience.

The moment they stepped off the stage he gathered her into his arms and kissed her with abandon, all of his relief he felt at the fact that it was finished and they'd done it pouring out of him. She returned his embrace, kissing him hungrily, her heart still pounding with the adrenaline of the performance now behind them.

He pulled away, panting, a huge sigh of relief gushing out of him as he whispered, "Oh, I'm so glad that's over."

Ziva nodded vigorously, adding, "Yes. I am relieved. I did not miss any steps. You did not miss any steps. We were with the music, I kept my frame locked, you led me perfectly, we–"

"We need to go back to the dressing room so we don't disturb the next couple," he interrupted, and she agreed, letting him take her hand and lead her out from the wings and toward their room.

As soon as they closed the door behind them, Tony's arms encircled her waist, pulling her into him again. "We cannot here," Ziva gasped out between kisses, her skin beginning to tingle with the arousal that had become so familiar whenever Tony was near.

Tony growled as he squeezed her tighter, just an instant, before letting her go, saying, "I know. We should change and head back." Before we're missed, were his unspoken words, and Ziva felt another thrill of excitement at being off of the resort property and out in the city with Tony. Someday, she thought to herself, we will come back and enjoy New York properly.

They changed quickly, and Tony waited a few minutes while Ziva took the makeup off of her face. It had worked for the persona, the ballroom dancer, but it wasn't quite her look. She felt much more comfortable without it.

"Ready?" Tony asked when she stood up, and Ziva nodded her response, gathering her bag and putting it on her shoulder. He put his hand on the small of her back to lead her out of the dressing room, and she put her arm around him as they walked, making their way out of the theater. They only had to walk a couple of blocks to reach Tony's car, a beat up old Mustang that had seen better days, and they enjoyed the walk arm-in-arm through the city in the warm summer air.

It wasn't long before they reached the car, and Tony unlocked the passenger door first, backing Ziva against the car and kissing her hungrily. Her arms almost involuntarily raised up to take his face in her hands, caressing his cheeks as she responded eagerly, pulling him closer to her and deepening the kiss with a savage moan.

Across the street, an older man who'd instantly recognized the daughter of Eli David watched with interest as she clung to an American man while they walked down the street and then began to make out against a car. The man's eyes narrowed, and he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. Clicking into his contacts, he selected the name of his business associate, and put the phone to his ear, waiting for the answer.

Uh oh ... find out what happens next on Sunday! Again, I thank each and every one of my readers for their support of this story.