Liar's Key by Carla Neggers

Deverell was as attractive as ever—and as much out of his league. Intelligent and well-connected, she operated with ease in the high-end art world—first at an auction house, now on her own. He’d been a nuts-and-bolts federal agent who’d ended up working art crimes after breaking an infamous Chicago museum heist of art worth hundreds of millions.
    â€œWhen did you get in from London?” he asked her.
    â€œMonday. I wanted to adjust to the time change before I head to Maine. We’re getting the house ready to go on the market. It’s an emotional time. My great-grandfather built it and it’s been in the family ever since, but my father never liked Maine as much as my mother did. Now that she’s gone...” Claudia didn’t finish. “The house needs a considerable amount of work. We rented it out most summers and that’s taken a toll, but it’s in a prime location. A buyer might want to tear it down and build something new on the lot.”
    â€œIs that your way of saying you’re not going to invite me for a martini on the front porch?”
    â€œOh, Gordy.” She inhaled through her nose, obviously trying to maintain her self-control. “I wish you hadn’t come to London. I wish you weren’t here now and on your way to Maine. It’s going to look as if you’re following me.”
    â€œYou’re the one who called me, Claudia.”
    â€œThat was a huge mistake. I didn’t mean for you to jump on your white horse. I wanted to know if you’d be in Maine this weekend for the open house. I thought the Sharpes might invite you.” She hesitated. “I wanted to steel myself.”
    â€œRight.”
    â€œI don’t appreciate your tone. I’m being straight with you.”
    â€œNo, you’re not.”
    She bit down on her lower lip, which brought back memories he knew would do him no good. Or her. As much as he didn’t trust her, he didn’t wish her ill, even if she looked as if she wanted to throw something at him—might have done it, too, if it didn’t risk breaking a two-thousand-year-old artifact.
    â€œWhy don’t you believe me?” she asked finally.
    Gordy didn’t answer. She seemed to know he wouldn’t. When Claudia had called him in North Carolina a week ago, asking about the open house and whether he’d heard about Alessandro Pearson’s death, Gordy had been inclined to skip it. I guess I just needed to hear your voice, Gordy. You’ve never lied to me. You’d tell me if I needed to worry.
    Maybe she hadn’t lied, but she’d certainly flung the BS.
    He examined a wall mosaic on display, its bright colors and modern geometric design a contrast to the muted colors and obvious age of the ancient objects sharing space in the gallery. Seeing Claudia again, being alone with her, wasn’t helping his stomach. It was still off, but he was confident he wouldn’t vomit. That’d be the crowning glory to the past twenty-four hours—puking his guts out on ancient artifacts in front of Claudia Deverell.
    He turned to her, noticing she had a few fine lines at the corners of her eyes. What was she now? Had she hit forty? When they’d first met almost three years ago, she’d told him she never planned to marry and didn’t want kids. I’m not the maternal type . But that’d made her even more intriguing. Joan was all about kids, family, making a home. She was the best, but for a while...
    Gordy nodded at the displays. “I was expecting statues of naked women.”
    Now a roll of the eyes for real. “You would. I’m looking after the gallery for a few hours. It specializes in common ancient items of high interest and low controversy. It’s not easy to find anything from the ancient world these days that isn’t without some level of controversy, especially if it originated in what’s now a conflict