WAZZANI, Lebanon — The rocky green hills on the outskirts of this southern town form one of the most volatile borders in the world. Tensions have been particularly high ever since Israel accused Hezbollah of obtaining Scud missiles from Syria last month, and many Lebanese say they believe it will not be long before war breaks out here again.

Yet it is here, just yards from Israeli border fences and military posts, that a flamboyant new resort is taking shape along the Wazzani River, complete with three swimming pools, marble-floor chalets and a Moroccan-style restaurant and bar. Israeli soldiers sometimes walk to the far side of the river to stare in wonder as Syrian laborers hammer away at the fake waterfalls and stone walkways.

“A lot of people tell us we are crazy to put millions of dollars into this,” said Khalil Abdullah, the confident 58-year-old Lebanese entrepreneur who is building the Wazzani Fortress, as the resort is called. He waves away all talk of war, saying the resort will bring tourists and much-needed jobs.

The project illustrates the strange duality of life here, as the Lebanese prepare both for war and for the possibility of a record-breaking tourist season. In a sense, it is nothing new: south Lebanon was occupied by Israel for 18 years, and summer always brings fears of a new clash.

But in recent months, a crescendo of tensions over Iran’s nuclear program and Hezbollah’s arsenal has led many analysts to believe that a new regional war is inevitable, and that Lebanon — as so often in the past — will be its theater. The rising pressure for sanctions against Iran, and the possibility of an Israeli strike against Iran’s nuclear facilities, are just some of the factors that could set off another war with Hezbollah, the Shiite militant group that Iran helped create and continues to finance.

The leaders of both Israel and Hezbollah have made it clear that they believe their next conflict will be far more violent and decisive than any in the past. After the Israeli president, Shimon Peres, accused Syria of arming Hezbollah with Scud missiles, villagers in southern Lebanese towns began stocking up on provisions, fearing the worst.

“I think this time Israel is determined to end the situation for good,” said Jamal Bazzi, a mother of three in Bint Jbail, a town near the border that was largely destroyed in the 2006 summer war between Israel and Hezbollah. “I have another house in Sidon, and I’ve stocked it with food, water and gas, so I’ll be ready if war breaks out.”

On a recent tour of the south, several Lebanese towns were mysteriously empty, and there are frequent rumors of intensified training by Hezbollah.

Yet many southerners remain undaunted. On Sundays, thousands can be seen barbecuing and picnicking in a new park in the village of Marun al Ras, right up against the Israeli border. The $1.5 million park, paid for by Iran, will formally open on May 25, an official holiday here celebrating Israel’s withdrawal from Lebanon in 2000.

Mr. Abdullah, whose grandfather once owned a large tract of land on both sides of the current border, said he had been dreaming of building a resort here for 15 years. A construction boom is under way across much of Lebanon, and last summer an estimated two million tourists visited the country. Mr. Abdullah worked as a builder in Ivory Coast for four decades before returning to his homeland last year, and he now sees the south as a great investment opportunity.

The landscape is magnificent, with spectacular views of the Israeli-occupied Golan Heights. Shepherds can be seen tending herds of goats among the olive trees and orange groves, and the powder-blue Wazzani River flows through a narrow valley fringed with flowering trees.

Asked whether tourists might be anxious about the possibility of war, Mr. Abdullah laughed and said people were already clamoring to book the resort for events. Foreigners need permits from the Lebanese Army to visit the area, but Mr. Abdullah said the resort could arrange those with no trouble. The Wazzani Fortress will formally open in June, and will continue to expand, with a total of 60 rooms by the time it is finished next year, he said.

“We are building a conference center too, and I hope one day we will host peace talks there,” he said.

The resort seems designed to flout the stereotype of south Lebanon as a land of pious Hezbollah warriors and veiled women. Over a festive lunch of local river fish and beer, Mr. Abdullah described his plans for an opulent bar and restaurant. There will be buildings in the shape of a church and a mosque, to emphasize Lebanon’s diversity, and an African-style veranda with a straw roof.

“There is no Hezbollah here — our resistance is to make peace,” said Yousef Hamzi, the shaggy-haired engineer on the project, as he raised a glass of whiskey. Mr. Abdullah’s sister Zahra, dressed in a flower-print blouse and jeans, frowned disapprovingly.

Later, Mr. Abdullah led a group of visitors to the bluff above the resort, where he plans to build more chalets within view not only of two ominous Israeli military posts, but of Israeli houses, just a few hundred yards away. Some people, he argued, are drawn to the idea of vacationing at such a historic crossroads.

Ms. Abdullah, picking her way among the stones in high heels, pointed out the historic Houla plains to the south, where her grandfather’s fields are now part of Israel. Aside from the Israeli guard towers, the land is largely unchanged, a panorama of green hills and peach and orange groves in the golden afternoon sunlight.

“If there is a war it will be horrible,” she said. “But everyone can see that we are planting love, and the others are planting bombs.”