A Time to Keep by Rochelle Alers Page B

in the phrase, Laissez les bon temps rouler!
    Was she, or could she let go of her inflexible rules and regulations to let her good times roll?
    She stole another glance at Shiloh who’d leaned closer to the man on his left to listen to what he was saying. Without warning, his gaze shifted and he stared at her. A knowing smile softened his mouth, and she returned his smile.
    Yes, you can, the silent voice in her head taunted seductively.
    Within seconds, conservative, sensible and levelheadedGwendolyn Paulette Taylor decided to discard the resolutions she’d set down for herself four years before.
    She was ready for Shiloh Harper, and ready to let her own good times roll!
    * * *
    A gangling man with a drooping white mustache stepped in front of the podium and a minute later silence descended over the ballroom. He cleared his throat before leaning closer to the microphone.
    â€œFor those who don’t recognize me, I’m Rene Vacherie, sheriff of Lafayette Parish. As president of the Bayou Policemen’s Benevolent Association for Needy Families, I would like to welcome everyone to what has become a yearly event wherein we all give a little more of ourselves to help the less fortunate.
    â€œI’ve been threatened with bodily harm from my brethren sitting behind me that if my speech runs more than ten minutes, they’re going to resort to an extreme type of punishment that will change me from a baritone to a soprano in zero to twenty seconds.”
    Everyone laughed while the seven officers hung their heads in what could be interpreted as a gesture of shame and remorse. A female officer, waiting for the laughter to subside, held up her hand.
    â€œI keep telling the guys that I don’t want to be the only woman sitting up here.” Her statement elicited another round of laughter.
    Rene placed a hand on his hip, and rolled his eyes. “Do they make pumps in a size fourteen?”
    â€œI’ve got a pair in my closet,” a very masculine voice called out from the back of the ballroom.
    Yvette Vacherie, who sat across the table from Gwen, shook her fist at her husband. “If I find you wearing women’s shoes, then you can kiss thirty-two years of marriage adieu, Rene Valjean Vacherie.”
    Gwen laughed so hard she had to put her hand over her mouth. And she wasn’t the only one who found herself with tears in her eyes.
    Rene sobered long enough to introduce the members of his board, each of whom came to the podium to say a few words. Gwen’s heart turned over when it was Shiloh’s turn to speak. A secret smile stole across her face when she heard gasps from a table behind her.
    â€œI’m willing to bet I could gobble him up in six bites or less,” came a muffled feminine voice.
    â€œI’m not selfish, Mindy. Mama only wants a little piece,” another voice whispered.
    He’s hot and mine for the night. The thought had popped into Gwen’s head, unbidden.
    Shiloh adjusted the microphone. “I’m Shiloh Harper, sheriff of St. Martin, and I’m proud to announce that our parish’s fund-raising efforts have far exceeded this year’s goal. Several of our families have been hit particularly hard because of hurricanes Katrina and Rita and many of our military reservists have been deployed to the Middle East. Last night we received a check from an anonymous donor who earmarked the funds to cover four years of college for Xavier Jefferson, Jr. who’d recently lost his father, Captain Jefferson, in Afghanistan.”
    Shiloh’s penetrating gaze swept over the room as everyone rose to their feet, applauding. He stared at Augustine, who was gazing longingly at Moriah. He froze, realization dawning. His mother, who was Xavier’s godmother, had gotten Augustine Leblanc to write a check for the premed student’s college tuition.
    Augustine turned from Moriah and stared at Shiloh. Raising his right hand, he touched his forehead in