And then my wife, a giant Frasier fan, would tell them about what Kelsey was wearing-we're on a first-name basis now, of course-and how friendly he was and how he's also a lot hunkier-looking in person, too.

Had TV's highest-paid actor, his wife and daughter, their nanny and several friends not been our next-door neighbors, then we would have still had plenty to talk about. We would have gone on and on about the Ocean Club, about its fabulous Jean-Georges Vongerichten restaurant, Dune; about its dreamy spa and its Balinese treatment villas; about its sweet stretch of beach, the wonderful rooms, the exquisite service.

But you know how people are. We're starstruck, all of us, no matter how much we might argue that we aren't. And if there is celebrity stuff to dish, then it must always be dispensed with before anything else.

"So," our friends would ask, "did you actually meet Kelsey Grammer?"

"Meet him? Why, we entertained him one evening," I would tell them.

At which point, my wife would roll her eyes and say: "Bob's exaggerating. What really happened was ... "

I'll get to what really happened. But first, let me tell you about the Ocean Club, because it truly is an idyllic place. Hard to believe it's located on a long spit of sand that's just a couple of hundred yards off Nassau and which was once known as Hog Island. Back in 1939, the island was bought by a Swedish industrialist, who built a private estate. He also planted intricately landscaped gardens, modeled after those at France's Chateau de Versailles. Then along came Huntington Hartford II, playboy heir to the Great Atlantic and Pacific Tea Company (A&P) fortune. He bought Hog Island and successfully petitioned the Bahamian government to change its name to what it's known by today-Paradise Island.

Hartford added a 52-room hotel, some cottages and christened it the Ocean Club. Among his many guests were the likes of William Randolph Hearst, Zsa Zsa Gabor, and an array of dukes and earls and other swanks too numerous to mention. Hartford embellished the property, adding an 18-hole golf course and installing at the apex of the gardens a 12th-century Augustinian cloister, originally purchased in France by Hearst, who had it disassembled and brought to Florida. After Hartford bought what was, essentially, a big pile of rocks and columns, workers spent more than a year putting the cloister back together again. To add to the grandeur of the gardens, Hartford erected larger-than-life bronze statues of Franklin Delano Roosevelt and David Livingstone (the Scottish missionary and explorer) along with two Carrera marble statues of the Empress Josephine and a 12th-century Greek statue of Hercules.

Had Hartford not fallen on hard times-relatively speaking-the Ocean Club might one day have rivaled Hearst's San Simeon estate for over-the-top honors. But he was forced to sell; and by 1994 it had wound up in the hands of Sol Kerzner, the South African hotel and casino tycoon. Kerzner is no slouch in the total-excess department, either. To be convinced of that, all you have to do is walk a half-mile west on the beach from the Ocean Club to where his Atlantis Resort reigns as one of the Seven Wonders of the Hotel World. The Atlantis out-Disneys Disney. It's Las Vegas in the tropics.

Kerzner had something a little more, shall we say, refined in mind when he closed the Ocean Club in 1998 and began a two-year, $100-million makeover that increased the accommodations to 106 rooms and suites. Where Atlantis caters to conventions, family vacationers and cruise-ship passengers on shore leave, the Ocean Club attracts a more discerning crowd. The in-season rack rate-$695 a night for a garden-view room; luxury beachfront suites for $1,750-tends to limit the pool of prospective clients.

Guests are met at the Nassau airport by a stretch limo and served champagne-the bona fide French stuff-upon arrival. Another nice touch-ice-cold towels scented with lavender and delivered by a valet before you sit down to complete the check-in paperwork. Luxury, really, is all about the little things, and Kerzner obviously abides by that philosophy when it comes to running his resort. He happened to be sitting at the oceanfront bar when my wife and I stopped by for a drink after checking into our room. While sipping pinot grigio and munching on grouper carpaccio, we listened as Kerzner, the mogul as micro-manager, instructed the bartender on how to properly spruce up a mojito with a sprig of mint before serving it to a customer.

There's plenty to do-golf, tennis, water sports, afternoon yoga classes-or not. We mostly hung out on the beach, one of those patented Bahamian stunners with sand that is almost pink, and water in three shades of blue, all glorious. The cabanas were comfy, and the attendants would occasionally wander by to offer refreshing Evian spritzes. It made sweating almost enjoyable.

Meals lived up to their billing and then some. OK, they were killer. Uber-chef Vongerichten, who made his mark at New York's Jean-Georges, Mercer Kitchen, Jong and JoJo, has melded Bahamian influences with his classics to create such dishes as lobster daikon roll with rosemary-ginger dip, crusted spiced snapper with cherry tomatoes and veal chop spiked with sage and kumquat-pineapple chutney.

And then there was the Ocean Club Spa. Our spa therapists, Rochelle and Lutrecia, escorted my wife and me to our private spa villa with its fountains and flowers and a platform bed. Our two-hour couples treatment began with a ritual foot bath and an exfoliating scrub finished off with frangipani oil. Then came the deep-muscle massage, followed by tea in the courtyard and a long soak in the Jacuzzi.

So, yes, I was altogether relaxed when it came time for me to entertain Kelsey Grammer that same evening. OK, technically we didn't formally meet him. But every time he walked by our patio on his way to the beach we said hello and exchanged the typical pleasantries. I'm quite sure we could have become the best of friends.

Early that evening, as Kelsey and his entourage sat down for a room-service dinner on their patio, my wife and I strolled out onto the broad lawn behind our rooms. All the better for watching the sunset (translation: eavesdropping). My wife took a seat in an Adirondack chair and I opted for the hammock. I should point out that the hammock was very tautly strung between a pair of palm trees. I should further point out that I am not as nimble as I used to be. And when I attempted to stretch out, the hammock flipped over and I popped out on the ground. The al fresco dinner party got a big laugh out of it. And that's how I entertained Kelsey Grammer at the Ocean Club.