He had to have slipped away after dinner while she lounged on the sofa, starting on another book she found on Simon's shelves. She was a voracious reader and often got lost in the literature. She knew she had lost track of him, but where he went, she couldn't have said.

Off her guard? Most certainly. It was as relaxed as she had been in a while. The whole weekend had been about time with her best friend, not chasing suspects, not keeping her assassin persona firmly in place.

This weekend, she had been allowed to be a girl; not just "Mossad."

He took her for a stroll that evening before dinner. She had been daring, wearing the comfortable sundress she and Abby had purchased years before, but she had still never worn. Her clothes were primarily functional. Those which were at all frivolous were typically 'persona-costumes' for work or the occasional formal function the liaison position required.

But she did own a sundress in a lovely blue. And the way Tony had stuttered when she walked down the stairs had, in fact, made her blush slightly.

The had strolled through the small islands 'downtown' – enjoying the view and the evening's beautiful weather. He had gently guided her towards a small boutique and she popped inside, returning with her hair now pinned back with a lovely abalone curl and pick. "Practical," she said simply, watching him roll his eyes and grin.

"Very nice" he had simply said. "Practical and beautiful."

Dinner had started at Captain John's Crabhouse, before Tony realized the only thing that Ziva could eat were the chicken-strips. Shellfish and Kosher were not synonymous.

She protested, saying that chicken would be sufficient, but he continued to ignore her and guided them both over a block to Skymansky's restaurant which had a more Kosher-friendly selection.

Despite years of Gibbs' training, he still wasn't the master of stealth. And when he tried to steal one of her frenchfries, he found his hand caught in a vice-like grip before he could get the fry near his mouth.

Ziva's glare would have withered a lesser man. But Tony just met her gaze and held it firm, relaxing his arm as she gently tugged the fry towards her own mouth, biting it in half.

"You could have asked," she had said with a small smirk.

"Wouldn't have been as much fun," he replied, popping the remainder of the fry into his mouth.

She leaned over and stole a bite of pasta and he remained silent, choosing instead to pick his battles.

They walked back to the cottage, his arm around her shoulders, her own around his waist. He rubbed his hand up and down her arm, occasionally, and she eyed him.

He merely shrugged. "It's getting chilly."

She smirked and leaned her head on his shoulder.

And sometime after they got home, she found herself on the sofa with no clue where Tony had slipped off to.

Now, as she had climbed the stairs to her room to slip into her pajamas, she found it.

The envelope was atop her pillow. Her name, in his distinct penmanship, scrawled across the front.

She sat on the edge of the bed, she opened the envelope and a disappointed sigh escaped her.

The photos had been returned.

"Stupid man," she muttered, finding a piece of paper at the end of the stack.

I'm sorry. Honest.

And no- I didn't make copies.

T

She couldn't help but chuckle at the thought of him making duplicates before returning the originals. She wouldn't put it past him, in any other situation. But this time, for some reason, she believed him.

The walk to his room was quick and she was somewhat surprised to find the door to his room propped open. She knocked softly on the door jamb, drawing his attention away from his book.

He lay on the bed, dinner slacks and shirt traded in for jeans and an undershirt. He looked up and lay his book on the nightstand.

Ziva held the envelope up and shot him a questioning look.

"Hey- those are all of them, I swear!" his hands came up in a defensive move.

She sighed and crossed the doorway, sitting on the bed next to his hip. She slapped the envelope on his chest.

"I did not mention it to get the photos back."

He frowned, his brow furrowing. "Then why-"

She sighed, obviously frustrated. "You should have told me, Tony!"

He leaned up on his elbows, his voice rising in exasperation. "Tell you what? That I think you're hot? Ziva, there isn't a red blooded man in the world who wouldn't agree with that. Come on- even you have to realize-"

She felt herself blush and covered her face with her hands, scrubbing them against her skin in aggravation.

"Do not do that," she said, her voice firm but even. "Do not try to flatter your way out of it, or joke your way out. If you do not want me to be honest with you, then you need to tell me. Because I am always honest with my partners- it's what keeps us alive!"

He pulled her hands away from her face and held her wrists in his gentle grasp. "I'm not joking, Ziva. You're beautiful. Bikini or otherwise," he paused and made sure he had her gaze. "I do respect you- and taking advantage with those photos wasn't... professional of me."

She nodded, seeing his honesty in his eyes.

"Keep the photos, Tony," she said softly. "I'm sure you enjoy them far more than I."

"I don't think that's the best idea."

Ziva half-shrugged. "Perhaps not. But if I keep them, they will end up in the trash. If you keep them, I'm sure they will have more ...mm, entertaining stories to tell, no?"

He fought off a blush and managed to waggle his eyebrows at her and stroked his thumbs across her palms. "Now I'm wishing I had my camera this morning. I love the new suit."

"I'm sure you will see it again. Next time you will be more prepared with a camera, I think?"

His eyes sparkled like a child's on Christmas Eve. "When? When do I get to see it again? Now?"

The dark haired woman laughed. "Not now."

He pouted -playing up the affect. And she chuckled as his lower lip jutted out, an expression of the utmost patheticness.

She turned her gaze away, looking out the window of his room. "Back to DC tomorrow," she said, regarding the moonlight view.

He rolled onto his side, mere inches from pressing his chest against her back as she sat looking out the window. He slid his arm around her stomach and gently pulled back in a hug.

"I know."

"Thank you," she said softly. "This weekend was lovely."

He nodded. "Thanks for coming."

"I should let you get some sleep," she said, turning in his embrace as much as she could She leaned down and planted a gentle kiss on his cheek.

"Laila Tov, Tony."

"Sweet dreams," he replied, reluctantly releasing her as she stood and headed to her own room.