A Time to Keep by Rochelle Alers Page A

sister-in-law Natalee. Ian, Natalee, Gwendolyn Taylor.”
    Gwen shook hands with Ian, then Natalee Harper. When she’d asked Shiloh about a Mrs. Harper, he’d confirmed there were only two. Moriah was the first, and she’d just met the second one. Natalee, a statuesque beauty with flawless mahogany-brown skin, was stunning in a black-and-red silk cheongsam. Her neatly braided hair was secured in a chignon on the nape of her long, slender neck.
    â€œYour jewelry is exquisite, Gwen.”
    Gwen rested a hand over the blood-red stone resting in the valley of her breasts. “Thank you.”
    Shiloh listened to the exchange between Natalee and his date. Gwen’s jewelry was exquisite, but he’d found her more ravishing than the world’s most expensive bauble.She claimed a natural lush beauty that literally took his breath away.
    Natalee’s gaze narrowed. “Do I detect a slight New England accent?”
    â€œBoston,” Gwen confirmed.
    Natalee’s vermilion-colored lips parted as she displayed her perfectly aligned white teeth. “I’m from Worcester. How long will you be staying in Acadiana?”
    â€œI hope for a long time,” she answered, smiling. “I’m now living at Bon Temps. ”
    Natalee shook her finger at Shiloh. “I’ve got a bone to pick with you, brother love. You didn’t tell me you had a girlfriend, and one who happens to be a homegirl.”
    Gwen’s attempt to explain she wasn’t Shiloh’s girlfriend was preempted by a deep voice coming through speakers. “Gentlemen, please seat yo’ ladies. And will the officers of the Bayou Policemen’s Benevolent Association please take their seats on the dais.”
    â€œIf you’re not doing anything tomorrow, I’d love for us to have a girls’ night out,” Natalee said as Ian took her hand.
    â€œWhat time do you want to get together?” Gwen asked, not seeing Shiloh’s frown.
    â€œI’ll come and pick you up around eight,” Natalee offered.
    Gwen smiled at her. “Okay.”
    Shiloh curved an arm around Gwen’s waist, directing her to a table positioned directly in front of the dais. His fast-talking sister-in-law had thwarted his plan to introduce Gwen to Cajun and zydeco music. He pulled out a chair and seated her. Leaning over, he splayed his fingers over her back. “Don’t run away, Cinderella.”
    She stared at the luminous eyes that had darkened to a mossy green. Her eyelids fluttered as she inhaled the intoxicating fragrance of his cologne warmed by his body’s natural scent.
    Gwen felt a vaguely sensuous light pass between them that filled her whole being with a wanting so foreign it frightened her. She wasn’t a novice when it came to men, but there was something about Shiloh Harper that made her feel like a virgin about to embark on a journey that would transport her from innocent to wanton within seconds if she were to lie with him.
    â€œI can’t run,” she whispered.
    His eyes widened. “And I don’t want you to.”
    â€œSheriff Harper, we all waitin’ for ya,” the voice boomed again.
    Heads turned in their direction, while hundreds of pairs of eyes watched St. Martin Parish’s sheriff straighten slowly and make his way to the dais. He sat, staring boldly and longingly at the woman whose beauty and vitality drew her to him like a powerful magnet.
    Gwen hadn’t realized she’d been holding her breath until she pulled her gaze away from the man who’d come out of the night to calm her fear of the unknown.
    She, Gwendolyn Taylor, purportedly a strong, independent black woman, found herself falling for a lawman in a region of the United States where counties were parishes, where the number and differing species of wildlife outnumbered the residents, and where the racial and ethnic mix was as varied as the cuisine imbued with a distinctive flavor summed up