Code Blues (25 page)

"Dr. Wie doesn't mind. He always gives us a
lunch break."

"Yeah, but I don't want to leave him alone
too long." I threw my napkin on the table.

Tucker started cutting his sausage. He'd
already polished off his chicken schnitzel. "Do you have time for
coffee?"

"Maybe some iced tea," I conceded. I glanced
across the street. A pedestrian had stopped dead on Péloquin,
scowling at us from under his shaggy brown hair, his body curved in
a question mark.

Alex. Jumping to all the wrong conclusions,
after I had so carefully told Tucker thanks but no thanks.

Tucker had his mouth full, but he twisted in
his seat to follow my gaze.

Alex bared his teeth at him, shot double
daggers at me, and turned on his heel, stalking back to St. Joe's.
He barely detoured around a little old lady with her walker. His
head was bent low. He hardly seemed to see where he was going.

I didn't call out to him. He still owed me
an explanation for Friday night. So I picked up my napkin and
smoothed it in my lap, forcing a smile at Tucker. "So. Iced
tea."

In the shade of the umbrella, Tucker's eyes
were unreadable. He repeated obliquely, "You're going to need it"
and signaled the waiter.

Chapter 14

I paged Alex twice more that afternoon. He
never answered, and don't tell me it was because palliative care
was so pressing. Well, screw it. I'd come here man-free, and less
than a week later, I'd blown it with two of them. Fine. There were
still many more guys in the city, although at this rate, I'd run
through all of them during my two years of residency.

When I asked Dr. Wiedermeyer to fill out my
evaluation form, he said, "With pleasure. I hope we work together
again."

Great. Especially after I'd dared go out for
lunch instead of bolting down some leftovers in the fridge. I
smiled with relief as I sailed out of the emerg. Career 1, boys 0.
I could live with that a little longer.

Alex's radio silence made me less likely to
blast him about Friday. Maybe that was the point. I shook my head.
He was an enigma-and-a-half.

At any rate, I was glad I'd carted my bike
up from London. I felt like pedaling away the stress. I'd pumped up
the tires last night and ridden it in this morning, shaving ten
minutes off my commute. If I broke it out again, I might even make
it on time to my next family medicine clinic.

The wind fluttered the poplar branches
hanging over the bike racks near the ER. I took a deep breath,
relaxing to the rustling leaves. It was one of the classic sounds
of summer, along with the burr of the lawnmower and the sounds of
kids splashing in a pool. My keys jangled as I bent over to unlock
my bike, my back to the hospital.

I caught a whiff of smoke. Patients are
supposed to smoke a certain number of feet away from the entrance,
but it just moves them closer to my bike rack. Irritated, my keys
missed the lock and jangled on to the ground. As I bent over to
pick them up, a low voice behind me said, "So."

I whirled around. Alex was leaning against
the trunk of a poplar tree, half-shrouded by the canopy of leaves.
He tilted his head to meet my eyes and took a drag off his
cigarette.

"You scared me," I said, my hand pressed
against my chest hard enough to feel my heart thumping.

Alex flicked some ash. "Yeah."

My annoyance mounted. I wanted to jostle him
out of his Camel ad complacency. I scooped up my keys and faced him
with my hands on my hips. "You were waiting for me?"

He shrugged.

"Or is this just a good place to smoke,
where you might light the tree on fire?"

That drew a laugh out of him. "I'm not going
to set your tree on fire."

"Good. Then maybe you're here to explain
where you went on Friday."

He faded back against the trunk with a
mutinous expression. "I told you."

"You didn't tell me a hell of a lot."

"What, I have to confess my life story
before I can say hello?"

"Yeah. That and answering my pages might be
nice."

His grey eyes blazed. "After your nice, long
lunch? Which one of us are you going to string along, Hope? Or are
you just going to hop from me to Tucker and back again?"

I wanted to slap him, but refused to let him
see how much he'd gotten to me. I picked out my bike key and opened
the U-lock, reassembling it on my bike. Then I looked him straight
in the eye. "You know what, Alex? If you're not going to explain
yourself, neither am I. Have a nice life." I tossed my head and
started backing my bike out of the rack.

He walked over to my right, cutting me off.
"Hope."

I started to wheel the bike around him. He
blocked it again. "Hope. I'm sorry."

I stared at him. "Alex, it's getting tired.
You can't just screw me around and apologize afterward."

His expression darkened. "Look. I know I'm
not perfect, but I'm not the one screwing around."

If he expected me to faint
over that, he was sadly mistaken. "Yeah. It's a real crime of
passion to eat sausages with one of our classmates in broad
daylight. So sue me. And get out of my
way
." I aimed my front tire at his
shins.

He didn't move. I stopped short. "What do
you want from me, Alex? You want me to be your pet because we
shared a rum ball? It doesn't work that way. You have to earn me.
Insulting me, not answering my pages, accusing me of running around
when I was just having lunch—" I bit my tongue. I wanted to say, no
wonder Mireille left you, but that was low. I shook my head. "I'm
starting to think you're not worth the trouble."

He studied me for a long moment. "Earn you,
huh?"

I nodded firmly, even though I was trembling
inside. The grass rustled as he planted his feet on either side of
my front wheel and placed his hands on my handlebars. I avoided his
eyes, staring at the muscles in his arms, his tanned hands on
either side of my own, so close that I could feel the heat from his
skin.

He bent forward and whispered, his lips
grazing my ear, "Leave the bike. You're coming with me."

My hands tightened on the plastic handles.
He still hadn't answered me about Friday night. But he was so sexy,
he made me want to straddle my bike and promise him whatever he
wanted. I closed my eyes.

He flicked my earlobe with his tongue. "Come
on, Hope. Let me''—he explored the tender skin behind my ear—"earn
you."

My fingers tightened on the handles and
relaxed again. He tugged my key chain off my index finger. The keys
rattled as I let them go.

My eyes flew open. "Alex—"

He ran his fingers lightly up my arm, making
the hairs stand on end. I shivered. He glanced at my chest and
grinned. I crossed my arms over my nipples. He grinned some more
and tugged the bike away to lock it up again.

I watched him lean over. His baggy cargo
pants did not do justice to his butt.

When he straightened, he gave me a crooked
grin like he'd read my thoughts. He came closer and ran his fingers
along the inside of my arm. I swallowed hard.

I cast a nervous glance toward my bike. Even
with his magnetic pull, I'd heard that there was a lot of bike
theft in Montreal.

"It's all locked up," he whispered. His
breath was hot and damp on my neck. "Want to check?"

Everything was sexual with him. I leaned
over and gave the lock a quick tug. "Good job."

He grinned at me. "I like that skirt."

Blood rushed to my face as I surreptitiously
made sure my white miniskirt was in place.

We should not be doing this. Over his
shoulder, I spotted the faces of two middle-aged women on a bench
under some neighboring trees. Their bench faced the parking circle,
but they had turned around to gape at us. Alex hadn't even kissed
me on the lips, but he'd broadcasted his intentions load and clear.
All we needed was for Dr. Callendar to run up at us, brandishing a
crucifix and a Bible. I took a step back from Alex.

Unexpectedly, he reached up to my shoulder.
"Give me your backpack."

I backed away some more. "But I need—"

"Relax. I just want to carry it for you. And
look at you." He grinned, his eyes crinkling.

"Then you'll have two." His own army surplus
bag was slung over his left shoulder.

He shrugged and slipped mine on his right
shoulder. "No problem."

I did feel liberated without my backpack,
but also more naked. Alex urged me on to the subway station,
occasionally dropping behind me to squeeze through the sidewalk
crowds, but when I glanced at him, he was checking me out. He
raised his grey eyes to meet mine, unashamed.

Urban foreplay. Somehow, he knew exactly how
to make me hot.

We headed into the damp
coolness of the metro, down the escalator, past the woman selling
day-old flowers and the
dépanneur
stand. I started to reach for my backpack, to
grab my tickets, but Alex waved me off. "I'll take care of
it."

He dug out his wallet and dropped two
tickets in the fare box. He said, "Go on." As I pushed through the
turnstile, he grabbed my ass in a quick squeeze.

I whirled on him. Ryan had never grabbed me
in public. My white miniskirt inspired a lot of illegal moves.
"Don't do that."

"Hey, I paid your fare." He waggled his
eyebrows at me.

I scowled. What, he thought he could buy me
with a two-dollar ticket? There was a line-up behind him, so I
stormed toward the stairs. Alex reappeared at my shoulder. I
snapped at him, "Ryan, that was—"

He went very still. "Who's Ryan?"

Ersh. I was a bucket of surprises today. "No
one. Sorry. Must have been a patient."

He went very still. "Don't lie to me."

That was the last straw. I
snapped, "Why don't
you
stop lying to
me
?"

"
Excusez, Madame
," a middle-aged guy,
reaching somewhere beyond my midsection for the transfer
machine.

Alex pulled me back toward the wall, out of
the way of rampaging commuters. He ran his hand through his
already- disheveled hair. He said, low and fast, "Look. I fucked
up. You fucked up. Can we start over?"

"I did not fuck up!"

He sighed. "Okay. I'm the fuck-up. I left
you in the café. I didn't tell you about Mireille."

"Yeah!" I got mad just thinking about
it.

"My bad. But—" He leaned
closer. His grey eyes filled my vision. I could hear him breathing,
even feel his exhalation against my upper lip. We were close enough
to kiss. "
You
are
fantastic."

"Yeah?" My mouth felt dry.

He pressed so close, our noses nearly
bumped. "I could take you right here."

"You could not." But my heart skipped a
beat. I glanced at the waves of people rolling by. The
black-stained red brick walls. The fluorescent pot lights. The
station attendant in his Plexiglas-and-stainless-steel booth. The
screech of the trains below us. It would be a very messy and public
place,

He bent forward and kissed me, hard and
fast, with a possessive thrust of his tongue. I still had my eyes
closed when he drew away and said, "But I'll try and wait until we
get to my place. If that's how you want it."

I looked into his grey eyes and thought, I
want it.

No! I blinked again, rubbing my forehead.
Ryan and I waited over two months before we stripped. I hadn't
known Alex two weeks.

On the other hand, Alex was very tempting
and seemed a lot more experienced. Do not think about Mireille. I
pushed her image out of my head, concentrating on Alex, his smell,
the line of his cheek, the warmth of his hand lingering on my
hip.

Alex smiled, a slow curve of his lips. But
all he did was gesture me down the stairs. "After you."

He moved his hand to my shoulder as we
descended. Neither of us wanted to break contact now. When we
reached the platform, I looked for non-existent space on the few
benches along the wall, but Alex kept me moving down the line until
the crowd had thinned. Then he stood behind me, wrapping his arms
around my waist. The entire length of his body pressed against me,
somehow managing to press his hardness against my ass. I shifted,
but he moved with me, his hands tightening on my hips.

I glanced around. For once, no one was
looking. I relaxed slightly.

He rested his chin on top of my head. I
could hear the smile in his voice. "Why did you wear this skirt to
work?"

I bypassed the whole
looking-older-for-patients conversation. "To drive you crazy."

"It's working." His voice lowered further.
"How could you ride a bike in it?"

A pleated skirt falls into place and looks
quite maidenly on a bike. It's not like a tight skirt that flips up
to show the world your panties. But I just smiled and shrugged. He
squeezed me against him, his fingers splaying against my hip bones.
His chest rose and fell against my back with his breath. I felt
sexy and excited and scared. Like Ralph Waldo Emerson wrote, "Do
what you're afraid to do."

Ralph had never met Alex. But right now, the
anticipation alone seemed worth the price of admission. I was both
sorry and relieved when I spotted the oncoming train's headlights.
Most of me wanted to ride the wave and relish every second as he
tried to win me. The other part of me was ringing alarm bells and
calling 911. But I was tired of sensible Hope. I wanted to get
crazy. I wanted to taste danger and lust.

When the train's doors whooshed open,
commuters poured out while the rest of us tried to jostle on. Alex
snagged a chair for me and stood at my side, his hand resting on my
shoulder near where it joined my neck. A few times, he ran a finger
under my hair to trace a circle on my nape. I shivered.