Cliff studied her a moment, then gave the backhoe driver an absent wave as he shut off the machine to take his lunch break. “I took this job because I wanted to work this land. I intend to do it.”

Though she didn’t feel the slightest lessening of tension, Maggie nodded. “Then we understand each other.”

As she started to turn away, Cliff put a hand on her shoulder, holding her still. “I think we both understand quite a bit.”

The muscles in her stomach tightened and loosened like a nervous fist. With his fingers so light on the bulky sweatshirt, she shouldn’t have felt anything. But hundreds of pulses sprang to life in her body. The air seemed to grow closer, hotter, the sounds of men more distant. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Yes, you do.”

Yes, she did. “I don’t know anything about you,” Maggie managed.

Cliff caught the tips of her hair in his fingers. “I can’t say the same.”

Maggie’s temper flared, though she knew when she was being baited. “So, you believe everything you read in the tabloids and glossies.” She tossed her head to free her hair from his fingers. “I’m surprised that a man who’s obviously so successful and talented could be so ignorant.”

Cliff acknowledged the hit with a nod. “I’m surprised a woman who’s obviously so successful and talented could be so foolish.”

“Foolish? What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”

“It seems foolish to me to encourage the press to report every area of your life.”

She clenched her teeth and tried deep breathing. Neither worked. “I don’t encourage the press to do anything.”

“You don’t discourage them,” Cliff countered.

“Discouragement is encouragement,” she tossed back. Folding her arms under her breasts as she’d done earlier, she stared out over the open gully. “Why am I defending myself?” she muttered. “You don’t know anything about it. I don’t need you to know anything about it.”

“I know you gave an interview about yourself and your husband weeks after his death.” He heard her quick intake of breath even as he cursed himself for saying something so personal, and so uncalled-for.

“Do you have any idea how the press hammered at me during those weeks?” Her voice was low and strained, and she no longer looked at him. “Do you know all the garbage they were printing?” Her fingers tightened on her own arms. “I chose a reporter I could trust, and I gave the most honest, most straightforward interview I could manage, knowing it was my only chance to keep things from sinking lower. That interview was for Jerry. It was the only thing I had left to give him.”

He’d wanted to prod, perhaps even to prick, but he hadn’t wanted to hurt. “I’m sorry.” Cliff put his hand on her shoulder again, but she jerked away.

“Forget it.”

This time he took both of her shoulders, turning her firmly to face him. “I don’t forget blows below the belt, especially when I’m the one doing the punching.”