The roomy entryway to the club was lush and stylish with deep reds and golds in ample abundance. The hostess greeted them pleasantly and Gibbs gave her his name. She checked her list and guided them to their table, Jethro's hand still at the small of Ziva's back.

He held her chair for her, then sat to her left. By unspoken agreement they had chosen the two chairs with the wall behind them so they could see the room. Ziva looked around in wonder.

The dining area had several tables set up with white table cloths, sparkling stemware, and a low, fat candle. The napkins were a deep pine green and the silverware gleamed.

Across the room was a low stage clearly for some kind of entertainment, and in front of that was … a dance floor.

Ziva looked at Jethro, unable to find words at first. She clasped his right hand with her left, pulling him toward her. She pressed a soft kiss to his mouth, then raised the fingertips of her right hand to his face, wonder in her eyes.

Looking at him with all the love she felt for him, she asked softly, "I realize this will seem very sudden for a first date, but will you marry me?"

With that patented smile, he raised her left hand to his mouth, pressing a kiss to the spot where his ring encircled her finger. "Already on it," he advised with a twinkle in his eye.

She gave a delighted laugh and finally found her equilibrium again, just as he'd intended.

"How did you find this place?" she asked, looking around again.

"I have my ways," he side-stepped.

"We are in Baltimore..." she looked at him consideringly. "Tony."

He pretended to look affronted. "What – you don't think I could have found this on my own?"

She gave him a knowing look. "Oh, you could have – but you did not."

He grinned, busted. "Well, I called the number to make the reservation…after DiNozzo dug it up for me."

She laughed again, already enjoying herself more than she had even imagined she would.

They both ordered filet mignon for dinner and they split an excellent bottle of red wine. Ziva asked where he'd gotten ready, and he revealed he'd gone to Ducky's for that. Their conversation flowed easily, gravitating toward their wedding plans. They had decided on the way home from Stillwater to get married on New Year's Eve. Ziva loved the symbolism of starting out the new year as a married couple and Jethro would have married her on any day she wanted.

They were still trying to decide where to have it; so far all they knew with certainty is that they did not want it in a synagogue or a church, just because neither of them was religious. As they ate their salads, Ziva broached an idea.

"I was wondering…" she said, "what do you think about a hotel or something like that? Perhaps there would be space for both the ceremony and the reception, and we could all spend the night rather than be out driving on New Year's Eve."

"Works for me," he said. "Where?"

"I have no idea," she admitted ruefully, then grinned. "I will have McGee help me run a search."

He smirked, but didn't disagree. It was what he would do.

"Don't know much about it," Jethro said, "but do you want any Jewish wedding …" He paused, searching for the right word, then settled on "…stuff?"

She grinned inwardly. Jewish wedding stuff. He got points for asking, even if he was short on eloquence. At first Ziva shrugged, then fiddled with her silverware.

"Actually, there is something, if you would not mind," she admitted.

"I won't mind," he assured her.

She gave him a look. "You do not want to hear the idea first?" she asked skeptically. "What if it involves red leather pants?"

"As long as they're on you, I'm good to go," he grinned, eyes twinkling.

She rolled her eyes at him, but a small smile played about her lips.

"You know, Jethro, you are allowed to disagree with me," she pointed out. "It is your wedding, too."

"All I need is you and someone to make it legal," he declared firmly. "If you're happy, I'll be happy. So, what were you thinking?"

"I would like for us to be married under the chuppah," she revealed softly. "It is a white canopy that we would stand under."

"We can do that," he agreed. "Anything else?"

"I am not sure," she confessed, starting to look a little lost.

"We don't have to decide everything tonight," he reassured her, laying his hand over hers again. She squeezed his fingers in gratitude for his ability to help steady her exactly when she needed it.

"You did get the message, though, right?" he asked, seemingly out of left field. "No red leather pants for me."

A light laugh bubbled out of her. "Got it," she assured him.

Their discussion paused while their dinners were served.

"Jackson called me again today," she related, continuing their conversation after the waiter had walked away. Her countenance was happy just thinking about her soon-to-be-father-in-law.

"He likes you better than me," Gibbs observed.

"He does not," Ziva denied.

"He's called you twice this week," Jethro pointed out. "That's two times more than he called me."

"It is just because you are the only person in the world who actually makes me look talkative," Ziva grinned, her eyes dancing merrily.

He smirked. She might be right about that.

"What did he want?" Gibbs asked.

"To see if we had decided what color tuxedo he should wear," Ziva divulged.

Jethro gave her a look that said he called for that?

"I am glad he is so excited," Ziva shared with a tiny smile.

Jethro's mouth kicked up faintly on one side and he squeezed her hand in acknowledgment.

"So what did you tell him?" Jethro asked.

"That we are thinking black, but no final decision yet," Ziva said. "We will have to decide soon, you know." He nodded.

"When are you and Abby going dress shopping?" he asked.

"Actually…" Ziva responded, "I would like to take McGee – at least at first."

Jethro looked at her in surprise.

"I know Abby wants to go and I would like her to," Ziva explained, "but I would like a chance to absorb some options and get an idea of what I want first, and Abby…"

"Gets excited," he finished.

Ziva nodded vigorously, looking adorably serious. "I love her, but I am afraid I will not be able to think." The right side of his mouth pulled up faintly in a ghost of his half-grin.

"McGee will be thoughtful, he pays attention to details – about people and things," she continued. Then she leaned in and whispered, "And he will be quiet!" They shared a low chuckle. "After I have some ideas, I want Abby to come, too, for the final decision on her dress and mine."

"So," he tried again. "When are you and McGee going dress shopping?" Now there was a sentence he never thought he'd say.

"I would like to go tomorrow for a while, just to look," she revealed, finishing up her dinner. "Do you mind?"

He shook his head with a small smile. She beamed, then her look became slightly dazed as she gazed into his face.

"We are getting married," she marveled in a hushed tone, part of her still working on believing that it was real.

"Got that right," he confirmed. Then holding out his hand to her he asked, "What do you say we practice the dancing part?"

The way her eyes lit up was all the thanks he'd ever need for making an effort with the details tonight.

She put her hand in his and led the way to the dance floor. The band had just started and a few other couples were on the floor, as well. There could have been five or fifty; they wouldn't have known the difference. Ziva and Gibbs only had eyes for each other.

Jethro rested his right hand on the small of her back and took her right hand in his other. Her left hand went up to his shoulder, then slid over to cup the back of his neck. He pressed their hands close to his chest, rather than holding them out in the more formal style.

"Do you realize this is the first time we have danced together?" Ziva asked, looking up at him.

"Mhm," Jethro acknowledged, a ghost of a smile playing about his mouth.

"It feels nice," she confessed, laying her head on his shoulder.

"It does," he agreed the smile becoming more pronounced as he pulled her in just a little closer.

The jazz was slow and sultry, almost sensual. Ziva and Gibbs danced to nearly every song the rest of the evening, only stopping to share dessert when the band took their first break. Resting comfortably in Jethro's arms as he led her around the floor, Ziva sighed in pure unadulterated bliss. She could not have imagined a more perfect night.

During the second set of music, the lights had dimmed, lending even more intimacy to the ambiance. At some point they had shifted so that both her arms were around his neck and his encircled her, hands centered low on her back. He looked down at her as they danced. Her head was resting against his shoulder with her eyes closed.

"I can feel you staring," she informed him without opening her eyes.

"Just enjoying the view," he returned.

"Mmmm…sexy and smooth-talking," she observed in a seductive voice. "How is a woman supposed to resist?"

"Were you planning to resist me tonight?" he asked, nuzzling her neck.

"Well, it is our first date," she pointed out, opening her eyes and lifting her head slightly to look into his face. "I do not want you to think I am sleazy."

"Easy."

Her eyes crinkled in confusion.

"The word is easy," he clarified.

"'Course," he said on further reflection, "sleazy works, too, I guess."

She shook her head, wondering if she'd ever get some of those American sayings right.

He gently lifted her eyes to his with one hand under her chin. "Not easy – or sleazy - waiting two years to be out with you like this. Worth it, but not easy."

Her slow, pleased smile pulled an answering one from him, then she tucked her forehead into his neck, snuggling in.

The band played one last song before taking their final break for the night. The singer's rich contralto voice was captivating.

At last, my love has come along
My lonely days are over
And life is like a song
Oh, yeah, at last

"Jethro," Ziva whispered. "Listen to the words."

If she'd been looking at his face, she would have known he already was.

The skies above are blue
My heart was wrapped up in clovers
The night I looked at you

I found a dream that I could speak to
A dream that I can call my own
I found a thrill to rest my cheek to
A thrill that I have never known

"I want this to be the first song we dance to at our reception," Ziva said softly, looking up at him hopefully.

"Good choice," he agreed in a low voice that sent delicious shivers down her spine. He bent down to kiss her softly but deeply, their lips clinging.

Oh, yeah when you smile, you smile
Oh, and then the spell was cast
And here we are in heaven
For you are mine
At last

As the song ended, Ziva pulled back and looked up at him with eyes shining with desire and bottomless emotion. The band still had one more set, but she was more than ready to be alone with this man.

"Jethro," she husked, "take me home…with you."

The deliberate, sexy smile that curved his lips told her he remembered that she'd uttered those exact words to him on their other first date two years ago.

"Always," he affirmed, the heat that built so readily between them showing in his gaze.

They left the dance floor with his hand resting on her hip. While he paid the bill, she went to the ladies room. He met her in the foyer, having just directed the valet to get the car.

He helped her in, closing the door behind her. Soon after they had cleared the driveway, they had to stop for a red light. Ziva leaned toward him, laying her hand on his chest.

"Thank you for remembering that I wanted to dance with you," she told him, lifting her hand to caress the side of his face with the back of her fingers adoringly as she conjured up the memory of when he'd told her they could go dancing if she wanted.

"You're welcome," he returned, pressing a kiss to her mouth. Taking her hand from his cheek he pressed a kiss there, too, then rested their linked hands on his chest as he started driving again. He, too, recalled their talk in the botanical garden a few months ago. In many ways, that conversation marked their turn down this road to their future.

"You deserved something like this two weeks ago," he said softly.

She realized he was talking about the night he'd asked her to marry him.

"Pull over," she directed in response.

He looked at her questioningly.

"Pull over, Jethro," she repeated, allowing a tiny smile. "Please."

Up ahead there was a quiet side street and Gibbs pulled onto it, over to the side. He turned to look at her as she unbuckled her seatbelt, then she reached over and turned off the engine. Pushing herself up to lean across the console that divided their seats, she cupped his face in her hands.

"Do not ever think you should have done anything differently the night you asked me to marry you," she said gently, but firmly. "Everything about it was perfect, from the night you chose, to the way you asked, to the ring you gave me. It was and always will be the happiest night of my life and I would not change a thing."

He looked into her eyes, relieved on some level that there was nothing reflected in her gaze but the truth of her words.

He raised a hand and brushed his thumb over her cheek, then captured her chin between his thumb and forefinger. Of one accord, their lips came together in a deep, loving kiss that said everything he couldn't.

When they'd pulled slightly apart, she grinned mischievously.

"Besides, given your brilliant decision to ask me at home, we did not have to drive there to begin the celebrating-in-bed part," she pointed out with a provocative lilt in her voice, laying any lingering doubt he had to rest.

He laughed, loving her more than he'd ever believed he would love anyone again.

"Good point," he noted, kissing her once more just because he could.

In short order, they were back on the road. The drive home included comfortable silences coupled with light conversation and all-too-brief kisses at the occasional stop. After he'd pulled into their driveway, he came around and opened her door, assisting her out. She stepped into him and slid her hand up to the back of his neck. Pulling him down, she captured his mouth in a kiss that had them both forgetting they were still in the driveway – until a neighbor's dog started barking and brought them back to reality. They pulled apart with identical sexy grins and headed into the house.

Jethro unlocked the door and opened it for her to walk in ahead of him. She got as far as the entrance from the foyer into the living room when she stopped dead in her tracks.

Sitting on the low coffee table in front of the couch was the most gorgeous arrangement of deep red roses she'd ever seen. There must have been a couple dozen flowers, and the greenery and baby's breath set them off to perfection.

Coming up behind her, he slid his hands around her waist and pressed a kiss to the side of her neck.

"Jethro?" she whispered faintly, tilting her head to look up at him, staggered. "How - ?"

He just smiled.

"They are beautiful," she whispered. She pressed her hand against one of his, then used it to pull him with her to the bouquet. Leaning over for a moment, she touched one of the roses gently, almost reverently, with her fingertips, inhaling the divine fragrance.

"You already brought me flowers today," she pointed out in a voice shaky with emotion, looking at the bouquet of white roses that was still sitting on the side table by the couch.

Turning her to him, he slid one hand to her hip and cupped her cheek with the other, his fingers spearing into her hair. Tears sparkled like diamonds in her eyes.

"White for a first date," he explained with that half-smile that was uniquely his, "and red to say how much I love you."

All that love was on plain view in his eyes. Tomorrow she would discover that there were indeed two dozen roses, a dozen for each year they'd been together.

She closed her eyes for a moment and pressed her cheek into his hand. A tear spilled out of the corner of her eye and he caught it with his fingertip. Opening her eyes to look into his, she spoke.

"There are not words to tell you how much this night has meant to me…all that you planned, everything you did …" her voice broke and she stopped for a moment. "It is like you saw these dreams inside of me that I had not dared to dream in a very long time …" her voice broke again. "…and over the last two weeks you have made them all come true."

Lifting her hand to his face, she finished, "I wish I could do that for you."

"You have," he assured her, bending his head to kiss her. It started out softly, sweetly, gently clinging to each other's lips…mouths slowly opening, tongues searching, touching, tangling…breath coming faster, arms pressing the other closer…until only their need for oxygen could part them even for a moment.

"I love you more than you can even imagine," she managed through the last of her tears, leaning her forehead against his chin, "and you are so getting lucky tonight."

With a sexy twinkle in his eye, he laughed out loud at the last, and she did, too. One of her favorite things about their relationship was how much they laughed together. She wiped her cheeks and raised her head to look into his eyes, radiating happiness. It just didn't get any better than this.

"Yeah?" he asked, grinning as their mouths inched closer, noses brushing lightly.

"Yeah," she confirmed, grinning right along with him, their mouths only a breath apart.

"Like the sound of that," he murmured, slanting his mouth over hers again. This time the heat flared quickly. Sliding his lips to her throat, he murmured, "Upstairs."

"Yes," she whispered, rising up on toes and wrapping her arms tightly around his neck.

Leaning back, she asked, "Can we take my flowers?"

"If you want," he said as the left side of his mouth lifted in his characteristic smile, tucking her hair behind her ear. She nodded almost shyly, an endearing smile curving her lips.

She picked up the white roses and he took the red. She turned off the living room lamp and led the way up the stairs.

"So who was your helper tonight?" she asked, enjoying the marvelous scent from the flowers as she turned down the hall to their room.

He waited as though debating whether to tell her. She glanced back at him and remembered where he'd gotten ready for their date. At the same moment, they both said, "Ducky." They shared an amused chuckle as they walked into their room.

Placing the vase of white roses on the dresser and directing Jethro to put the one he carried on her nightstand, Ziva admired both of them once again and walked over to bury her face in the red roses.

He reached for her and she turned, her arms coming up to loop around his neck.

"You," she said with emphasis and a quick kiss to his lips, "have a romantic streak in here, Special Agent Gibbs." She tapped his chest over his heart with one finger.

He looked dubious.

"If it's there, it's buried pretty deep," he confessed, "but something about you makes me want to find it."

She had been on a slow melt all evening, but at his words she went nearly boneless. She moved her lips toward his as he leaned in to kiss her again. To her surprise, he pulled back just before they touched.

"But you probably better not get used to it," he warned her, compelled to be completely honest.

She released a breathy laugh, and buried her face in his throat.

"I would not change a single thing about you," she whispered.

He tangled his fingers in her hair and tugged her head back so he could see her face.

"Know exactly what you mean," he said quietly, feeling like he was drowning in her whiskey brown eyes and having no wish to do anything else.

Then there was no more talking as they slowly divested each other of their evening clothes. He carried her to the bed and followed her down. All that could be heard the rest of the night were murmurs of endearment and gasps of pleasure as they lost themselves in what they created together.

A/N: The song is "At Last" by Etta James, and I own nothing related to it, of course. There is a website on my profile for The Flower Expert related to another story, but you can also read about red and white roses there, if you like. As always, thanks for reading! =)