Worlds Apart: A Contemporary Romance Novella

Sunny Randolph set off to find adventure visiting a friend in Kenya, but while she thought she’d packed for everything, there was one unexpected twist she never saw coming.

Martin Karanja had his hands full with the staff and guests of Karanja Safari, so fighting an unexpected attraction to a guest from America was last on his to-do list.

Sometimes, love finds you when you least expect it. And sometimes real love happens. Even worlds apart.

Worlds Apart is a standalone romance novella by eleven-time USA Today bestselling author Elizabeth Hunter.

Chapter One

Chevy Chase, Maryland

Sunny surveyed the range of clothing laid out across the bed in her old bedroom at her parents’ house. “I think I have everything, but I’ll need to weigh it to make sure I’m not over my baggage allowance.”
“This?” Her mother blinked. “This is all you’re taking?”
“The bush plane that goes out to the camp only has so much weight allowed per person for luggage.”
“I’m sure this is all very safe but…” Mitsy Cooper Randolph of the Loudon County Coopers considered a trip to Paris to be free-spirited, zesty adventure. “What kind of holiday is this when you’re staying in a tent and flying on tiny planes. Is there running water? Hot showers? A bar?”
“Yes, obviously. There’s all that.” She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “It’s going to be great, Mom.”
It was going to be great.
Sure, she’d only left the United States twice in her life and both of those trips had been hyper-managed by her mother or her school teachers, but she was turning over a new leaf—and taking some of the holiday time her boss had insisted she use.
She was a new Susannah Randolph, professional single woman and soon-to-be world traveler.
She’d read everything she could on Kenya, the Maasai people, the history and biology of the Mara, and the ecological implications of responsible travel. She’d been keeping track of the camp’s blog and followed their social media pages.
She was ready.
Probably.
“How many days will you be gone?” Her mother perched in a wingback chair in a corner of her bedroom, a dry martini in one hand and a small line of confusion resting between her perfectly sculpted eyebrows. “Really, Susannah, what is there to do in Kenya?”
“A lot.” Sunny tried not to roll her eyes. “And I’m going to visit Alice, Mom. Remember Alice Ledama? I’m going to visit her at the safari camp she’s managing now. I’m going to see lions and elephants and… zebras!” Her eyebrows went up. “Don’t you think it’s exciting?”
Sunny had checked off everything the safari company and Alice had recommended, long-sleeved shirts in cotton or linen and pants to protect her skin from the sun. A broad sunhat to shade her eyes. Sturdy, broken in hiking boots weren’t a problem, since she enjoyed local hikes regularly with her birding club.
“I’m just impressed you’re going anywhere.” Sunny’s older sister Lulu appeared from the hallway and leaned against the door jamb. “You never even wanted to go to Europe with me and Mom.”
Her older sister was a younger clone of her mother in appearance, bearing the Cooper blond hair and sky-blue eyes. Sunny got the blue eyes, but she bore a stronger resemblance to her father with her slightly olive skin and dark hair.
“That’s because you and Mom go to Europe to shop” —Sunny began to fold her plain cotton underwear and sensible bras so they would fit in the packing cube— “and I don’t like shopping.”
Lulu sat on the corner of the bed and started to fold alongside Sunny. “You should bring a bathing suit. Kenya is supposed to have great beaches. And at least one pair of sexy underwear.” She rose and walked to Sunny’s chest of drawers. “What if you meet a hot safari guide or something?”
Mitsy lifted her glass. “Hear, hear. Holiday romances are an experience every young person should have.”
Sunny stifled a laugh. “Mom, Lu, this is me. I’m not going to have some wild holiday romance. I couldn’t get a date at the actuarial conference.”
Lulu made a face. “Why would you want to date an actuary?”
“I’m an actuary!”
“Exactly.” Lulu pulled out a tiny scrap of lace that pretended to be a bra and tossed it on the bed. “You need someone to liven you up.”
“Susannah, you’ve had all your shots, haven’t you?” Mitsy waved a hand. “Never mind, just drink lots of gin and tonic, darling. It’s medicinal.”
“Not everyone needs a romantic partner.” Sunny glanced at Lulu from the corner of her eye. “I actually like being single.”
Mostly. She mostly liked it, except for those times when she didn’t, which were becoming more and more frequent the closer she got to thirty.
It was still a little over a year away, but Sunny had the irritating feeling that she should be… more. That whatever adult benchmarks of success one was supposed to meet by their third decade, she had fallen behind.
Somewhere in the six years since she’d finished college, most of her school friends had drifted into marriage, partnership, or parenting, all while seeming to maintain picture-worthy social lives and brilliant careers.
Everyone she knew seemed to post pictures of holidays Sunny would never brave on her own, so when Alice messaged her about coming to visit the luxury safari camp in the North Mara conservancy, Sunny swallowed her fear of travel, dusted off her passport, threw money at Alice, and bought a ticket to Nairobi.
She could have adventures! She hadn’t been the keenest to leave the familiar in the past, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t branch out and take baby steps out the door.
“Baby steps,” she muttered under her breath.
“Baby steps?” Lulu grinned and started rolling Sunny’s t-shirts into neat packable tubes. “I wouldn’t call going on safari a baby step, little sister. Definitely a big girl step. I’m proud of you.”
“Yeah?” Sunny stared at the swiftly disappearing pile of clothes as she and her sister filed everything into neat packing cubes. “It’s going to be great.”
“You’re going to have an amazing time.” Lulu hugged her shoulders. “Alice is going to meet you at the plane, right? The safari plane?”
Sunny nodded, trying not to panic.
“And she gave you detailed directions how to get from the international airport to the local one where the small planes take off?”
“Yes.” She gulped. “And I already checked with my phone company and my phone will work as soon as I get there so I can call her if anything goes wrong.”
“Then there’s nothing nothing to worry about.” Lulu grabbed her by the shoulders. “Relax. Your flight is early tomorrow, right?”
Sunny nodded. That was why she’d brought all her clothes to her parents to wash and pack. Her Arlington apartment might have been closer to the airport than her parents’ house, but their driver could take her to the airport in the morning and she wouldn’t have to leave a car there or battle through public transportation with luggage.
She had her passport, her visa, her vaccination card, her Swahili phrase book, and all her receipts.
“Oh!” Lulu pulled a pair of rose-colored lace panties from her drawer. “These are cute. Take these.”
And sexy underwear. She had sexy underwear too.

Mara North, Kenya

“Martin!”
Martin Karanja had been trying to enjoy his first hot shower in two days. If another baboon broke into the kitchen… “What is it?”
His business partner Errol Carberry spoke through the canvas tent wall. “It’s the water tank.”
He could feel the moment the heated water in his bucket began to cool. He rinsed the soap off his face, quickly washed the rest from his body, and reached for a towel as he shut the overhead shower off. “What’s wrong with the tank? Leak?” He doubted it was a leak. Errol was a skilled welder; he wouldn’t bother Martin with a leak.
Errol was still on the outside, speaking through the canvas. “The tank is low again, and it shouldn’t be based on how many people are in the camp.”
“Damn.” Martin thought about the group they had flying in the next day. A friend of Alice’s, a family from the UK, and one of his favorite guests, Ethel Merriman, a New York octogenarian who celebrated every other birthday in the Mara. Not the biggest group for a week, but they were all going to need water.
“You think it’s the elephants again?”
“Possible,” Errol said. “The south watering hole is dry right now. They’re looking for water, especially with that new baby in the herd. Can I come in?”
“Fine.” So much for a quiet morning and tea with his paperwork. “Make yourself at home.” He hung his cotton towel to dry on the handmade rack that equipped every tent in the camp. “Start the kettle, will you? I’m just getting dressed.”
“Sorry to bother you so early.” Errol teased him. “I don’t suppose I’m interrupting anything.”
Martin shook his head. “This is me, Carberry, not you.” He quickly smoothed lotion over his dark brown skin since the air in the Mara was so dry. “Did the South African girl head home already?”
“Last week, Karanja. Keep up.”
That was nearly impossible with Errol. Luckily, the man was devoted to work far more than any passing relationship.
“Take a truck out with a crew and see if you can find the leak,” Martin said. “I’ll talk to Alice about getting a water truck from the village as a backup.”
“Right,” Errol said. "Six flying in tomorrow?"

"Yes.” He reached for the white polo with the “Karanja Safari Camp” logo on the pocket. “It’s Ethel’s year again.”
“Is it?” Errol’s voice came from the living area. “I missed the old girl. What birthday is it now?”
Martin pulled on a pair of khaki cargo pants and walked from the bathing area into the living room. “Eighty-seven this year.” He smiled. “This will be her third safari with us.”
Errol was standing at the electric kettle, dropping two teabags into Karanja Safari mugs. “She still a firecracker?”
Errol Carberry watched the kettle with a devotion inherited from his British forebears. He was third generation British Kenyan and as devoted to the land and the tourism industry as Martin was. Unlike Martin, he was regularly unshaven, averse to any life outside of the camp, and more willing to speak to a hungry lioness than a banker.
Martin sat in a chair next to his desk and reached for the basket of socks he’d tucked underneath. “According to Alice, Ethel asked that we pair her with a different guide this year because the first two were too cautious.”
Errol looked up with wide eyes. “Didn’t she ride with Kapen last trip?”
“Yes, and he says he won’t guide her again. She tried to climb down the riverbank last time to get a better picture of the hippos.”
Errol let out a long breath and poured boiling water over the tea. “God save us from Ethel.” He looked around Martin’s tent. “Why do you have the coolest tent in the camp?”
“Because it’s mine.”
“Mine too,” Errol muttered. “At least thirty percent of it is.” He took the two cups of tea and handed one to Martin before it could finish steeping.
Martin pulled on socks and reached for the mug. “I’m also the one who has to meet with investors, officials, and bankers when they come for their free stay in the Mara.”
“Never mind, you can have the big tent.”
Because of his role as the majority owner and public face of Karanja Safaris, Martin’s tent was far more than the typical staff housing at the camp.
Most employee tents consisted of a bedroom tent, a shared bathroom, and a shared living space. Martin’s sprawling compound had an office, a meeting room with a large dining table, and two bedrooms with private baths. There was a raised wooden porch outside that overlooked the western horizon for the best sunset viewing and a clear window over his bed so he could see the stars.
It paid to be the boss.
He’d offered to let Errol have the other bedroom, but his partner preferred life a little more rugged with lots of privacy for the occasional dalliance with an attractive female guest or passing biologist. He’d built himself a small house next to the water tower on a temporary platform that lifted it into the trees. It was primitive, but it felt like an upgraded treehouse and had the best views of the sunset.
By agreement with their Maasai landlords, no permanent structures could be built anywhere on the property, except those necessary for maintaining equipment. No houses, offices, or bungalows allowed. It was a safari camp without fences or barriers to the wild.
Which in lion country meant they also employed a lot of armed guards.
“So if Ethel isn’t content with Kapen” —Errol sipped his tea— “then who are we sending her with? He’s our best spotter.”
“I thought I could try asking Mingati.”
Errol raised an eyebrow. “Why?”
“He likes me.”
“Just because he’s slightly less of an arse to you doesn’t mean that he likes you.”
“He’s not an arse if you don’t force him to be friendly.” Martin’s Maasai wasn’t nearly as good as Errol’s, but Mingati spoke fluent Swahili as well as Maasai. The old man refused to speak English—though he understood every word—and wasn’t the most friendly wildlife spotter in the area, so he didn’t work much.
He was grumpy, anti-social, and able to track a leopard at noon.
Martin shrugged. “You can’t deny that he knows the country.”
“Mingati is the best spotter I’ve ever met, but he’s a nightmare with guests,” Errol said. “He spat on that woman from France, remember?”
“He said it was an accident.”
“It wasn’t an accident!”
“She kind of deserved it though.” Martin cocked his head. “Didn’t she?”
“Yes, but it doesn’t matter how satisfying it was, none of our guides will work with him now. Ethel will have to live with Kapen.”
Martin thought about Ethel Merriman, surly Maasai game spotters, and the paperwork he was supposed to catch up on that week. “You know what? I don’t have anyone coming in from the city this week, and you’re going to be busy trying to fix that elephant damage to the pipes.”
Errol pouted. “It might not be elephants.”
“It’s always the elephants.” Martin slid on a pair of boots. “Why don’t I drive the group this week?”
“Are you sure you remember which way to go?”
“Yes, very amusing.” Martin added sugar to his tea before he drank it. “The land hasn’t changed, Carberry. I still know my way around.”
A friend of his manager’s, a family of four, and one sprightly retiree.
How much work could they be?