Free The Old Man in the Club by Curtis Bunn Page A

hope,” Tamara said.
    Elliott went over to her and they embraced. “It’s a nice night to be nude on the balcony,” he said into her ear. “I’ll be right back.”
    A few minutes later, he returned dressed in a silk robe, holding a glass of Glenfiddich on the rocks.
    â€œYou need to take that off,” Tamara said. “It’s not the same.”
    Elliott did not resist. He handed her his glass, slipped out of the robe and tossed it on the chair alongside hers. She handed him his Scotch and Elliott made a toast.
    â€œTo being naked on the balcony,” he said.
    â€œAnd to feeling totally free,” she added. And they tapped glasses.
    â€œMy neighbors…”
    â€œWhat about them?”
    He scanned her tight body. “Too bad they don’t have the same view I have.”
    â€œI feel so good.” She placed her forearms on the railing and looked north toward the Buckhead section of Atlanta. Elliott sidled close to her and did the same.
    â€œThank you for cutting your evening short for me,” she said, her eyes transfixed on the images in front of her.
    â€œI had a good time,” he said. “But I knew a better time was awaiting me here.”
    â€œOn my way here, I thought about it,” Tamara said. “What makes you tick? What really can you see in me; I’m so much younger than you? There can’t be a future with us. How can I be friends with Danielle and Daniel? They’re your children. What am I doing here?”
    Elliott sipped his drink. “Wow, you had quite a drive over here,” he said. “I’m surprised you didn’t smash into the back of someone’s car. My head would explode with that many thoughts rushing through it on a fifteen-minute drive.”
    â€œI’m serious,” Tamara said.
    â€œI know you are, and that’s the problem right there,” he said. “There’s a time for being serious and this doesn’t seem to be one of those times. We’re out here Butterball turkey naked on the balcony, a beautiful night, sipping on drinks…and you want to talkabout questions that can be answered at another time—or can’t be answered at all?”
    â€œI want it on the record, even as I stand out here in my birthday suit—hey, that’s right, technically, it’s still my birthday because women celebrate all month or at least all week. Anyway, I want it on the record that I had stuff on my mind.”
    â€œDuly noted,” Elliott said. “We will get to those questions, I promise you that. I don’t want you having any doubts or questions or discomfort.”
    Tamara looked at him with admiration in her eyes. That alarmed Elliott, but he dismissed it. There was a lot going on at that moment, and his hang-up about women needed to go somewhere.
    â€œHow was the party at Compound?” she asked, helping Elliott’s thoughts move on.
    â€œThat place is nice. Huge,” he said. “It was like a campus of clubs on the grounds. I had fun. Met some good people.”
    â€œBy that you mean women, don’t you?” Tamara tried to sound casual about it, but she didn’t succeed.
    â€œOf course I met women; men, too,” he said. “That’s what socializing is all about. But mostly I people-watched.”
    â€œDo you have a girlfriend?” She wanted an answer before sleeping with him the night before, but the moment escaped her to ask. She knew that was a big mistake to not inquire before sex.
    â€œThis was one of those questions you pondered on your way over here, wasn’t it?” Elliott responded.
    â€œNo. This was a question I had on my mind last night, but you got fresh with me and made me forget,” she said, smiling.
    â€œI don’t have a girlfriend,” Elliott said. “I date. But even with that, I only date women I feel good about. I don’t date for the sake of dating.”
    â€œI didn’t