Code Blues by Melissa Yi Page A
Authors: Melissa Yi
Tags: Suspense, Chick lit, Romance, Medical, Women's Fiction, doctor, nurse, hospital, Women's Adventure, Suspense & Thriller, romance adult fiction, Emergency Medicine, romance action adventure, Medical Care, womens fiction chicklit, physician, medical humour, medical humor, emergency, emergency room, womens commercial fiction, medical conditions, medical care abroad, medical claims, physician author, medical student, medical consent, medical billing, medical coming of age, suspense action, emergency management, medical controversies, physician competence, resident, intern, emergency response, hospital drama, hospital employees, emergency care, doctor of medicine, womens drama, emergency medical care, emergency department, medical crisis, womens fiction with romantic elements, physician humor, womens pov, womens point of view, medical antagonism, emergency services, medical ignorance, emergency entrance, romance action, emergency room physician, hospital building, emergency assistance, doctor nurse, medical complications, hospital administration, physician specialties, womens sleuth, hope sze, dave dupuis, david dupuis, morris callendar, notorious doc, st josephs hospital, medical resident
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door. Backpacks
and shoulder bags were mostly hung on hooks over the garbage can,
but had also been abandoned against all four walls and even one on
top of the refrigerator.
At least the coffee table
was relatively clear, except for a scattered edition of the Montreal Gazette . I
plopped on a sofa, avoiding the blanket, and clicked on the TV,
breathing through my mouth instead of my nose.
Just as I paused at a documentary on whales,
the combination on the door went click-click. Pause. Click.
I propped my feet on the coffee table and
pretended to be fascinated by the Right Whale. Normally, I would
have been. I donate money to the World Wildlife Fund. But this
time, I was finely tuned to the man walking through the door.
I saw a flash of red out of the corner of my
eye and turned to see a tanned male hand beside mine, pushing down
on the sofa arm. Then a chestnut head lowered toward my feet.
I whipped my feet off the table and out of
the way. "What are you doing?"
Alex peeked up at me from under his bangs.
"Groveling."
I had to laugh.
Alex lunged at my feet again.
I leaped into the corner, behind the
intersection of the two sofas. "Stop it!"
"I'm trying to kiss your feet, woman! At
least let me do it right!"
I laughed so hard, I practically bent in
half. "I've just been exercising. On the elliptical trainer."
"So? You think Jesus's feet were clean and
bright before Mary Magdalene washed them?"
I gave him a strange look. "I have no idea.
I guess not."
"You bet your sweet ass not." His gray eyes
glowed. "So?"
I was embarrassed that he'd commented, even
peripherally, on my ass. "So what?"
He laughed. "You should see your face."
I put my hands on my hips. "I think I liked
you better groveling."
"Your wish is my command." He stuck his head
between the chesterfields and kissed my left foot, between the two
straps of my sandals. His lips were soft.
I nearly kicked him in the head as I tried
to back away, but I was wedged between the walls, the sofas and
Alex.
He grinned up at me. "Aha. You're mine, all
mine." Then he kissed my right foot. And gave it a tiny lick.
I bit back a yell.
"Salty," said Alex. He didn't look one bit
self-conscious, even though he'd literally kissed my feet and was
crouched on the ground, peering up at me from under his bangs. "So.
Am I forgiven?"
"Yes," I hissed, angry and humiliated and
turned on at the same time.
"Do I still have to take you out to
lunch?"
I crossed my arms on my chest. "Do you have
to ask?"
He stood up slowly, eyeing my body along the
way. When he met my eyes, my face matched both our shirts. He said,
"No. But you're so much fun to tease."
I wanted to stamp my foot. I refrained only
because it might have highlighted recent lip action, and Alex would
have enjoyed it too much.
He extended his hand. I took it and allowed
him to assist me out of the corner. His hand was dry and warm.
We smiled at each other. I felt suddenly
shy. He opened the door for me and stepped back, without letting go
of my hand.
As we walked down the stairs together, he
pulled my arm in close to his side. I blushed again. It had been a
long time since I walked like this with anyone.
The door at the bottom of the stairs opened.
A woman's loud voice declared, "Don't you usually have to fill out
a form for that? And he said, 'What form—'"
I stiffened and tried to pull my hand away,
to avoid any PDA, but Alex's clasp tightened. His eyes were
amused.
Mireille and Sheilagh, the super nice
resident coordinator, stared up at us. Mireille's mouth thinned for
just an instant. Then it curved upward in a smile, so fast that I
wondered if I'd been imagining things. "Hope! Alex! Where are you
off to?"
I hesitated. Should we invite them along? It
would be polite, especially since she had just hosted a party at
her place.
But I wanted Alex to myself. We were holding
hands for the first time. That was worth some privacy points.
"Places to go, people to see," Alex cut in,
his hand moving to the small
and shoulder bags were mostly hung on hooks over the garbage can,
but had also been abandoned against all four walls and even one on
top of the refrigerator.
At least the coffee table
was relatively clear, except for a scattered edition of the Montreal Gazette . I
plopped on a sofa, avoiding the blanket, and clicked on the TV,
breathing through my mouth instead of my nose.
Just as I paused at a documentary on whales,
the combination on the door went click-click. Pause. Click.
I propped my feet on the coffee table and
pretended to be fascinated by the Right Whale. Normally, I would
have been. I donate money to the World Wildlife Fund. But this
time, I was finely tuned to the man walking through the door.
I saw a flash of red out of the corner of my
eye and turned to see a tanned male hand beside mine, pushing down
on the sofa arm. Then a chestnut head lowered toward my feet.
I whipped my feet off the table and out of
the way. "What are you doing?"
Alex peeked up at me from under his bangs.
"Groveling."
I had to laugh.
Alex lunged at my feet again.
I leaped into the corner, behind the
intersection of the two sofas. "Stop it!"
"I'm trying to kiss your feet, woman! At
least let me do it right!"
I laughed so hard, I practically bent in
half. "I've just been exercising. On the elliptical trainer."
"So? You think Jesus's feet were clean and
bright before Mary Magdalene washed them?"
I gave him a strange look. "I have no idea.
I guess not."
"You bet your sweet ass not." His gray eyes
glowed. "So?"
I was embarrassed that he'd commented, even
peripherally, on my ass. "So what?"
He laughed. "You should see your face."
I put my hands on my hips. "I think I liked
you better groveling."
"Your wish is my command." He stuck his head
between the chesterfields and kissed my left foot, between the two
straps of my sandals. His lips were soft.
I nearly kicked him in the head as I tried
to back away, but I was wedged between the walls, the sofas and
Alex.
He grinned up at me. "Aha. You're mine, all
mine." Then he kissed my right foot. And gave it a tiny lick.
I bit back a yell.
"Salty," said Alex. He didn't look one bit
self-conscious, even though he'd literally kissed my feet and was
crouched on the ground, peering up at me from under his bangs. "So.
Am I forgiven?"
"Yes," I hissed, angry and humiliated and
turned on at the same time.
"Do I still have to take you out to
lunch?"
I crossed my arms on my chest. "Do you have
to ask?"
He stood up slowly, eyeing my body along the
way. When he met my eyes, my face matched both our shirts. He said,
"No. But you're so much fun to tease."
I wanted to stamp my foot. I refrained only
because it might have highlighted recent lip action, and Alex would
have enjoyed it too much.
He extended his hand. I took it and allowed
him to assist me out of the corner. His hand was dry and warm.
We smiled at each other. I felt suddenly
shy. He opened the door for me and stepped back, without letting go
of my hand.
As we walked down the stairs together, he
pulled my arm in close to his side. I blushed again. It had been a
long time since I walked like this with anyone.
The door at the bottom of the stairs opened.
A woman's loud voice declared, "Don't you usually have to fill out
a form for that? And he said, 'What form—'"
I stiffened and tried to pull my hand away,
to avoid any PDA, but Alex's clasp tightened. His eyes were
amused.
Mireille and Sheilagh, the super nice
resident coordinator, stared up at us. Mireille's mouth thinned for
just an instant. Then it curved upward in a smile, so fast that I
wondered if I'd been imagining things. "Hope! Alex! Where are you
off to?"
I hesitated. Should we invite them along? It
would be polite, especially since she had just hosted a party at
her place.
But I wanted Alex to myself. We were holding
hands for the first time. That was worth some privacy points.
"Places to go, people to see," Alex cut in,
his hand moving to the small
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