The vines, briars and thick sumac were gone. Piles of rich, dark topsoil were being spread over what had been a tangled jungle of neglect. The tree that had leaned toward her house was gone, stump and all. Two men, backs glistening with sweat, were setting stone in a low-spreading wall where the edge of the slope met the edge of the lawn.

Cliff Delaney ran a tight ship, Maggie concluded, and made her way through the new dirt toward the side yard. Here, too, the worst had been cleared out. An enormous bearded man in bib overalls sat atop a big yellow backhoe as easily as another might sit in an armchair. At the push of a lever, the digger went down into the gully, bit into earth and rock and came up full.

Maggie shaded her eyes and watched the procedure while the puppy circled her legs and snarled at everything in sight. Each time the digger would open its claws to drop its load, the dog would send up a ruckus of barks. Laughing, Maggie crouched down to scratch his ears and soothe him.

“Don’t be a coward, Killer. I won’t let it get you.”

“I wouldn’t get any closer,” Cliff said from behind her.

She turned her head, squinting against the sun. “This is close enough.” Disliking the disadvantage of looking up and into the sun, Maggie stood. “You seem to be making progress.”

“We need to get the plants in and the wall of this thing solid—” he gestured toward the gully “—before the rain hits. Otherwise, you’ll have a real mess on your hands.”

“I see.” Because he wore the frustrating tinted glasses again, she turned from him to watch the backhoe work. “You certainly have a large staff.”

Cliff’s thumbs went into his pockets. “Large enough.” He’d told himself he’d imagined that powerful sexual pull hours before. Now, feeling it again, he couldn’t deny it.

She wasn’t what he wanted, yet he wanted her. She wasn’t what he would have chosen, yet he was choosing her. He could turn away logic until he’d learned what it was like to touch her.

Maggie was very aware of how close they stood. The stirring she’d felt hours before began to build again, slowly, seductively, until she felt her whole body tense with it. She understood that you could want someone you didn’t know, someone you passed on the street. It all had to do with chemistry, but her chemistry had never reacted this way before. She had a wild urge to turn into his arms, to demand or offer the fulfillment, or whatever it was, that simmered between them. It was something that offered excitement, and pleasure she had only glimpsed before. So she did turn, completely uncertain as to what she would say.

“I don’t think I like what’s happening here.”

Cliff didn’t pretend to misunderstand her. Neither of their minds was on the pond or the machine. “Do you have a choice?”

Maggie frowned, wishing she was more certain of her moves. He wasn’t like the men she’d known before; therefore, the standard rules didn’t apply. “I think so. I moved here because it was where I wanted to live, where I wanted to work. But I also moved here because I wanted to be on my own. I intend to do all those things.”