There was a time when Brooke might have given anything to have that sort of luxurious calorie intake. For her, food had always been a tricky thing, having suffered from bulimia for most of junior high and high school.

She had a better handle on such things, now.

"I can't read him," Brooke said, "At all. Except for when he's sweet-talking me. It's weird."

Brooke stared down at the fish. The last time she'd had sashimi, she'd spent the better part of a weekend locked in her bathroom.

Still, this was Languedoc. There was nothing to worry about, right?

And so she dug in.

"Yes," she added. "Spring break. Spain. Just don't expect me to go running with the bulls."