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Danielle stopped. Her eyes were wide, and she just watched Criss laugh. He was getting a kick out of this.

"Why did you - "

"So," Criss said, interrupting her, "you gonna show me that bike of yours?"

His smile was pure sin.

Criss was supposed to go back to Danielle's shop the next day. He wanted to show her a trick the day before, but he got a call and had to leave. He told Danielle he'd be back tomorrow, and for the first time in a while, Danielle actually spent time getting ready.

She kept her hair down; the jet black strands falling onto her shoulders and framing her face. She didn't wear her normal torn-up jeans and mechanics t-shirt. Well, she did, but her t-shirt was free of the grease marks those Goddamn bikes always left. Her jeans were clean - they weren't covered in oil stains or blood. (Danielle was beyond mortified that she first met Criss Angel with bloody jeans!)

"Why did I even leave my hair down?" she had muttered, to herself, as she tied her bandana around her head. She gently touched her eyes. "This eyeliner will come off as soon as I start working." She rolled her eyes at her stupidity and went to her shop.

Every time the bell over the door would sound, Danielle would drop whatever she was holding and look through the open door, into the shop.

When it happened again, she looked and only saw two boys. "Fucking kids," she muttered, going back to whatever she was doing.

Danielle had actually dozed off, leaning her head against her work desk, when she felt a hand fall on her shoulder.

"Criss?" she yelped, shooting up. She looked around and met Derek's gaze. "Oh. Hi."

"I feel so loved," Derek said, sarcastically. "Anyways, I'm going to get some lunch with Amy. I'll be back soon, okay?"

Danielle waved her hand.

"Go into the front. I need someone working the counter," he said, pulling her off of her stool. "Come on, hon. Up and at 'em."

"Why do I have to work?" she whined. "This is your job." Derek sat her down in the seat behind the counter.

"I'll be back in an hour," Derek said, and headed out the door.

Danielle watched Derek walk down the street, before she slammed her head against the counter. "He's not coming," she groaned.

About a half an hour later, the bell rang again. Danielle - being half-asleep - mumbled a welcome, before she repositioned her head in the crook of her elbow.

"No wonder you dont get customers."

Danielle reared back and almost fell, but a large hand swiped up and grabbed the collar of her t-shirt.

"Whoa, didn't mean to scare you," Criss said, smiling. He let go of her shirt, then smoothed his hand over the grip mark he left on it.

Danielle sighed inwardly. "Oh .. well - I didn't think .. I didn't think you were coming."

"I told you I would," Criss said. His eyes were very intense. "I never break my promises."

"You didn't promise me - "

"Did you fix your bike up yet?" Criss slowly meandered around the room, looking at random objects; touching random motorcycle parts.

"Sort of .. " Danielle looked through the open doorway again, biting her lip. Her bike was still in pieces.

"This is the first time you've looked at it since yesterday, isn't it?"

Danielle laughed. "Guess that proves you can never lie to a person who reads minds for a living."

Criss smiled. He had such full lips. They were so feminine at times, yet, Criss was so manly.

"I could help you, if you'd like," Criss said, stepping past Danielle to go into the garage.

Danielle watched as he turned his back to her, and buried his hands in the front pockets of his fashionably faded jeans. He walked around with such a carelessness yet, you knew he would never trip and fall. He had such an ease to his walk, but he was still so full of tension.

Danielle - realizing her complete examination of Criss' actions - slapped herself mentally. What was she doing? A crazed stalker would notice those kind of things; not a bike shop owner who had recently discovered the man.

With a physical slap to her forehead, she followed his actions and went into the garage. "Do you know how to fix bikes?"

Criss shrugged. When he didn't say anything after that, Danielle cleared her throat and heaved herself onto the workbench that held her bike.

Criss turned around and smiled again. "You don't look like you plan on working."

Danielle bit her lip to keep herself from smiling. "You're supposed to show me a magic trick, remember?"

Criss smirked and flicked the bill of his trucker hat up slightly. "Okay, I'll show you a magic trick. However, we then have to work on your bike, all right?"

Danielle nodded. Criss smiled and pulled her bandana off of her head. Danielle wrinkled her nose at the act. "Hey, what are you doing with my - "

"Shh, its okay," he said, placing a masculine finger to her lips. After he stuck the bandana in his back pocket, Criss pushed up the sleeves of his green army jacket. "Can you verify that I have nothing up my sleeves, nor in my hands?" Criss flexed his fingers as he flipped his hands over and over again. "Nothing, right?"

Danielle smiled. "Let me see those sleeves, buddy." When he pulled at the cuffs of his jacket, she shrugged. "I guess there's nothing," she said, with a gleam in her eyes.

Criss smirked. "So, I'm clean?"

"Well, I've never seen your medical records, but I can only assume that you are."

Criss laughed, closing his eyes. "You are quite a character." He shook his head and looked at her. "Danielle, take this seriously."

Danielle smiled. "I'm deeply sorry. Please - continue."

Criss sighed, laughing slightly. "Anyways," he said, giving her a hard look. "Nothing in my hands or up my sleeves?"

Danielle made a sarcastically excited face. "Oh, no! There isn't, Mr. Angel! Oh, my, I can only imagine what you'll do!"

Criss was just looking at her by the end of that, the bandana loose between his fingers. He shook his head again, then cleared his throat. "Watch carefully," he said, slowly and huskily. He fisted his left hand, and began to push the bandana into the top of it. When it was completely hidden, he slowly opened up his hand, finger by finger, revealing an empty palm.

"Oh so clever, Mr. Angel," Danielle said, grabbing his wrists and pushing up his sleeves. "Where is it?"

Criss laughed and shrugged. "I don't know," he said, shrugging. He smiled when Danielle tensed. "That's right. I have no idea where it went."

"What do you mean you have 'no idea' where it went?"

Criss laughed. "I have no idea where it went. It might show up in - " Criss paused, staring behind Danielle. "Wait .. I just saw something flash in your bike."

"The fuck are you doing to my bike, now?" she asked hysterically. But when Criss braced a hand on the bench beside her, her breath shortened. He leaned towards her, his other hand stretched towards the bike. His face was so close to hers that she could feel his hot breath on her mouth and nose. Criss bent a little closer -

- and pulled her bandana out from under the seat of the bike.

"Jesus H," Danielle breathed.

"That was a great trick," Criss said, bracing his other hand on the workbench; the bandana pressed neatly under it, "if I do say so myself."

Danielle gulped. His face was so close. "Y - Yeah .. it was." His breath smelled minty and smoky. "Should we start on the bike" - she gulped harder - "the bike?"

Criss was smiling seductively; just a curve of the lips no teeth shown. He only looked at her mouth. "What bike?"

"Oh, Jesus," she breathed. She closed her eyes when Criss ran his fingertips down her cheek, and sighed when he cupped her chin.

"See? No bike," he said, triumphantly, and turned her face to look behind her. Her bike wasn't behind her anymore.