Finn came to me in my dreams that night, in the ripped jeans and grey vest that he'd worn onstage with Jude. He prowled towards me while I lay on the bed, his hair messy and dishevelled, his eyeliner smeared from the Jack Daniels that Jude had poured over his face.

Fuck, he was gorgeous.

As he drew nearer, he pulled the vest over his head, muscles flexing in his arms, and my heart jumped onto my tongue. Whisky droplets slid over his skin, heading down, down, down, and even though Jack wasn't my favourite, I itched to lick every drop off him.

Finn paused at the foot of the bed, his grey eyes raking over me, hot with desire. I felt pinned in place, breathing hard, aching and wet between my legs. His intense stare never leaving my face, Finn flicked open the top button on his jeans

I squirmed.

He leaned forward and trailed his fingertips up my leg, and suddenly I was naked, even though I'd been dressed at the start of the dream, and my knees automatically fell open, inviting him in.

The bed dipped beneath me as Finn climbed onto it. I rested my head on the pillow, watching him as he crawled closer, his hand gliding up my thigh, inch by agonising inch.

I wanted him to touch me more than I'd ever wanted anything. His fingers skated across my inner thigh, teasing the breath from my lungs, getting closer and closer –

I opened my eyes.

A soft cry of disappointment slipped out. If I couldn't have Finn in real life, at the very least I wanted him in my dreams. I rolled over and squished my face against the pillow, trying to ignore that it was obviously morning; if I could fall asleep again, maybe I could catch the rest of the dream.

But sleep, the fickle bitch, wouldn't come.

Shoving back the covers, I climbed out of bed.

Finn was lounging in a chair in the living room, one foot planted on the floor, the other dangling over the chair's arm. He held an open book with both hands, and two more were stacked on the coffee table.

He smiled when he saw me, and it was only small, a flicker of expression, but I felt it all the way to my bones. That tiny smile from Finn Donovan was worth more than a hundred kisses from another guy.

"I grabbed a couple extra in case you wanted them," he said, nodding toward the books.

I put a hand to my chest. "I'm touched."

I said it playfully, which earned me an eye-roll, but I was touched. Finn had been thinking of me.

After grabbing some toast, I curled up in the chair opposite Finn to munch and read. But I couldn't concentrate on either. Finn's books were thrillers, and definitely written with a male audience in mind, but that wasn't what I struggled with.

How was I supposed to focus on a book when the sexiest goddamn rockstar in the world was sitting opposite me?

I peeked at him over the top of my novel, part hoping that I'd catch him peeking at me too. But nope, he really was reading.

"What do you do with yourself all day?" I asked.

Finn looked up.

I waved a hand around the room. "You spend most of your time in the house, right?"

"Yes."

"How do you keep yourself occupied?"

He cocked an eyebrow. "There's no shortage of things to do."

"You just pass the time in the pool or the cinema room?"

"And the gym." Finn flexed his bicep.

I was instantly wet.

"But is that it?" I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

Finn closed his book. "No. Most of my time is spent working on music."

"That fourth album? How's it coming along?"

"Fine," he said, but it came out clipped, and there was a tightness in his expression that hadn't been there before.

I didn't push the subject.

"Let's do something different today," I said,

"Like what?"

I cast about the room for inspiration, and my gaze landed on the huge windows and the glittering white world outside. "Do you wanna build a snowman?" I said, in my best impression of Anna from Frozen.

Amusement lit his eyes. "What was that?"

"You don't know Frozen?"

"Never saw it."

I gasped.

Finn shrugged, unrepentant.

"Okay, at some point you're watching it with me," I said.

He started to say something, but I held up a finger. "No arguments. I watched your films; you can watch mine."

Finn settled back in his seat. "That's fair enough."

Jumping up, I held out my hand and made a come-on gesture. "Seriously, though. Let's build a snowman."

I got a narrow-eyed look in response. "I'm not sure that's my idea of fun," Finn said.

"Pleeeease," I wheedled, pouting.

Finn stared at me for a long moment, then he sighed and got up.

"All right, fuck it. Let's do this."

***

It must have snowed again during the night – it was hard for Finn to even open the living room door. He kicked drifts out of the way so it was easier for me.

"Holy shit, it's almost up to my knees," I cried as I stepped out.

"If it gets any deeper, you won't be able to go out at all," Finn said.

"Just me?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

He patted my head. "Because I'm a lot taller than you."

"What if I take a really bright flag with me wherever I go? That way, if I fall into a snowdrift, you'll be able to see the flag and then you come and rescue me," I suggested.

"There's a problem with that. I don't have any flags," Finn said.

"We'll work that out later."

His eyes sparkled. "Maybe you could wave your panties instead."

"You'd love that, wouldn't you?"

"It would make me come quicker than a flag," Finn agreed.

I didn't think he was making a double entendre, but my face still heated, despite the frosty air.

Finn shaded his eyes with his hand, looking around the grounds. "How do we do this, then?"

"Are you asking me how to build a snowman?"

"Yeah."

"You don't know?"

"I haven't done this since I was a little kid."

"It's like riding a bike. You never forget," I said.

"Speak for yourself."

I hid a smile.

"I haven't made one in a long time either, so how do you feel about a little competition?" I said.

"I'm listening."

"Whoever builds the most creative snowman wins."

Finn thought that over. "Who picks the winner?"

"We both do."

"What does the winner get?"

My dream flashed into my head, further flushing my cheeks – I knew what I wanted as a prize. Unfortunately that wasn't an option.

"We'll work that out later. You in?" I said.

A slow grin spread across Finn's face. "Bring it on."

***

I hadn't anticipated how much harder it would be for me. Finn's longer legs meant he could move quicker through the snow, and his superior upper body strength had him rolling and lifting huge balls of snows that I would have struggled to shift. If the snow hadn't been so deep, I'd have stood more of a chance, but I kept losing my footing and slipping all over the place.

The first time I fell, I thought Finn might help me up, but apparently he was taking this way too seriously to help his competitor.

The second time, I distinctly heard him snigger.

I gave him the finger, but I don't think he noticed.

My phone buzzed in my back pocket, and tension tightened my chest. That was probably Louise again, checking to see what I'd gathered during my snooping session, but even if Finn wasn't here, what was I supposed to tell her?

Sorry, Louise, but I had an attack of conscience and got into a fight with the rockstar you want me to spy on, and now things are okay between us, but I still can't give you what you want because I'm developing fuzzy feelings for him.

Yeah, that would go down well.

I swallowed, suddenly glad that Finn had his back to me so he couldn't notice the tangle of emotions that I was sure were playing across my face.

Playing games and building snowmen was fun, but I'd come here for the sake of my career. Just because I'd drawn the line at taking private snaps of Finn's bedroom didn't mean I could completely abandon my plan to collect article-worthy info about him. I had to do something, otherwise all of this would be in vain, and then where would I be?

But telling myself that didn't ease the queasy knot in my stomach. Finn took his privacy very seriously, and I suspected that his reasons for that ran much deeper than I'd initially understood. Writing articles about him would be a complete betrayal of the trust he'd started to show me.

"I think I'm done," Finn said.

I snapped my head up, banishing everything else to the back of my mind. "I'm not ready yet."

Finn smirked. "Better work quickly then."

I leaped into action, jamming handfuls of snow into place as fast as I could, until accepting that it was as good as it was going to get.

We both stepped back to study each other's creations. Finn spoke first.

"Is that supposed to be a dog?"

"What do you mean supposed to?" I said. "It's clearly a dog."

"You sure about that?"

"Yes." I stomped closer. "See, these are its paws, and this is its tail and here are its ears."

"That's its tail? I thought you were giving all the lady dogs something to look at," Finn said, sniggering.

"What? No –" I stopped, because from this angle, Finn had a point. The tail that I'd carefully crafted looked a bit like a dick. A long skinny dick, but still a dick.

"Goddamnit," I said.

"Hey, that doesn't mean you've lost," Finn reassured me. "The winner is the most creative snowman, and Giant Penis Dog is definitely in with a shot."

I examined Finn's entry again. A snowman lay on its back, twig arms clutching at the sky, while another snowman stood over it. A thicker branch protruded from the first snowman's round chest.

"Am I looking at a snowman-on-snowman murder?" I said.

"I haven't fully decided," Finn said, his eyes gleaming with pride. "It's either that or Snow Buffy staking a Snow Vampire."

"Morbid, but creative."

I looked from snowman to snowman, and sighed. "Sadly, I have to vote yours the winner."

"Really?" Finn slung his arm around my shoulders, and my chest hitched. I'd never had that kind of casual contact from him before.

Don't think about that dream, don't think about that dream.

"I'm not so proud that I can't admit when I'm beaten," I said.

Finn beamed down at me. The light from the setting sun reflected in his eyes, and glinted gold on his dusting of stubble. I'd never seen him look less like his rockstar image, and I'd never wanted him more.

He reached out and I thought he was going to do something sweet like tuck my hair behind my ear. Instead he gently booped me on the nose.

"What was that for?" I asked.

"Your nose is all pink and hamster-y again," he said.

"Hamster-y isn't a word," I said with dignity.

"I'm an artist. I'm allowed to make up words."

I sighed. "I'll never win this argument, will I?"

"Absolutely not."

Pink sunset snow spilled across our creations, making Finn's look even more murderous.

"Come on," Finn said, tugging the back of my coat. "We need to decide what we want for dinner."

I waited a little longer, watching him stride back to the house, his hands deep in his pockets.

When had we become 'we'?

My phone buzzed and this time I glanced at it. A text and a voicemail from Camden showed on the screen – it must have been her calling earlier, not Louise. I opened the text and found a command for me to check my voicemail, with lots of exclamation points.

I did.

"I don't know why you're not answering your phone, but it had better be because you're busy doing something wholesome, and not ogling that rockstar you're living with," said Camden.

At least it was only a message, so she couldn't see my guilty expression.

"Anyway, I thought you should know that that bitchnipple Izzy Rollins is up to something," Camden continued.

My guilty expression became a frown. I'd hoped that the phone call between us would be the last I'd heard from Izzy, but I really should have known better.

"You remember Jude's ex-manager, Neil? Apparently Izzy's been sniffing around him – I guess trying to dig up some dirt she can turn into a story."

"A story about who?" I said, briefly forgetting that I was listening to a voicemail and not having an actual conversation.

"Neil would be really fucking stupid to give her anything, especially considering the shit that got him fired in the first place, but being blacklisted from the industry may have made him desperate. I know Neil's nothing to do with you, but Izzy is, so just be careful. Love you," Camden said.

The voicemail ended.

A loud whistle caught my attention, and I looked up to see Finn standing near the door, apparently having only just realised I wasn't following him. He made a what's-going-on gesture with his hands, and I shook my head, giving him my brightest smile.

"Just Camden checking up on me," I called.

I shoved my phone in my pocket, my mind going over and over my sister's message. Any other time, I'd have assumed that Izzy was trying to dig up something on Jude and Camden, and maybe she still was, but considering the internship we were both fighting for, I suspected she was digging for something on Finn.

Neil had never worked for Finn, but they still knew each other, and Neil had been in the industry for a long time. It wasn't unreasonable to guess that he'd probably kept a lot of secrets, and that he might be willing to spill those now that Jude had got him blacklisted from the entire music scene. Although it had been months since Jude had fired him, and he hadn't run to any tabloids in that time, so maybe he did know better.

But, as much as I disliked Izzy, I had to admit she was good at getting what she wanted, and now that she knew I had a major advantage, she'd be pulling out all the stops to beat me.

My only real chance was to continue with my plan – gather as much info about Finn as I could, and supply Louise Hoffman with more articles than she could have dreamed of.

So why did that leave me with such a bad taste in my mouth?